


Midnight Over Broadway

by startwearingpurple



Series: Rose Weasley: Bounty Hunter [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, Detectives, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 66,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6530083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startwearingpurple/pseuds/startwearingpurple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things are plugging along as usual for Rose Weasley, bounty hunter anything-but-extraordinaire. A trip to New York for her live-in boyfriend Scorpius Malfoy's gallery show seems just the ticket to liven things up a bit, and with baby and boyfriend in tow, she sets off. But familiar foes may ruin Rose's first trip to the Big Apple...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. More Weasley

“Bugger off, blood traitor!”

I rolled my eyes. “Honestly, I've heard that one about a hundred times! You're going to have to do better!”

A blast of red light went over my head. I tugged the purple knit Shield Hat on tighter, cowering behind an overturned lawn table and a hastily conjured Shield Charm, and went on, “I'm a Weasley! I've been called blood traitor too many times for it to get to me!”

My felon let out a high-pitched shriek of rage and shot another spell at me. It bounced off the lawn table, ricocheted off a mirrored gazing ball in the garden, then hit the rope flies holding up the lilac flowered canopy over the patio before finally slamming into the side of the house and knocking off a chunk of plaster. The canopy, free of its suspension ropes now, came down right on top of the felony-magical-assault I was there to pick up, a woman named Robina Spalding.

I tried to jump to my feet to Incarcerate her before she could get out of the canopy, tripped on a rhododendron and landed flat on my belly. Since my wand was still in my hand, it shot off a bunch of sparks and a blast of pink light.

The pink light hit my felon in the arse just as she was struggling to her feet, and she went down again.

“Whoops,” I muttered, getting to my feet and brushing dirt off my clothes.

That hadn't worked out at all the way I'd intended. Still, she was down and no one was hexing me, so it seemed like a job well done. I managed to pull the canopy off her and aimed my wand at her before she could wake up and try to curse me again. Thick ropes shot out and wrapped around her, binding her arms to her body.

She moved then, shaking her head groggily, and realized she was Incarcerated. “You bloody bint!”

“Like I was trying to say earlier,” I told her, “I'm Rose Weasley. I work for Angelo's Magical Bonds, and you are in violation of your bond agreement. I can show you the paperwork if you like, but basically, you have to come with me to the Ministry so Magical Law Enforcement can arrest you.”

“I have too much to do to go to the bloody Ministry!” she bellowed. “I have to go shopping tomorrow! And now I've got to have my bloody patio repaired.” She noticed the large chunk of plaster sitting next to the house and craned her neck to see where it had come from. “Dammit!”

“Should've thought of that before you attacked someone and skipped your court date.” I hauled her to her feet, pocketing her wand.

“She had it coming,” my skip said mulishly. “She oughtn't to have grabbed those robes. I saw them first.”

“Aren't you just a little bit embarrassed to be arrested over a shopping incident?” I asked.

“It was a bloody good sale,” she remarked.

It must have been. Robina Spalding had been attending a clothing sale at a shop in Diagon Alley and had cursed another shopper who'd tried for the same set of robes Robina was grabbing. The victim had ended up in St. Mungo's Hospital for three days, and Robina had ended up charged with Magical Assault resulting in spell damage.

Apparently, this had not actually taught her anything. She'd skipped her court date with the Wizengamot and gone right back to her shopping. And that was where I came in.

I work as a bond enforcement agent for a bail bonds agency – a bounty hunter. When someone misses a court date, I pick them up and bring them to Magical Law Enforcement, and get paid ten percent of their bond. Most of the time, this wasn't much. I tried to stay away from the really scary criminals, which also meant staying away from the really big bounties, but it was best that way. Picking up the Robina Spaldings of the world was enough to pay the bills.

“You have _got_ to learn to control your temper,” I told her, and Disapparated for the Ministry.

The MLEs – Magical Law Enforcement agents – knew me by sight, so when I walked in with a felon there was generally a lot of interest. Probably this was because my captures often involved embarrassing or messy situations, like that time I'd brought in a man covered in bees.

That hadn't been my fault, though. He'd already been covered in bees when I found him.

Fortunately, this time the worst I could boast was a bit of rhododendron in my hair. Most of the MLEs lost interest when they saw the lack of soot, bees, ketchup, or ice lollies, and by the time I had walked Robina to the desk to trade her in to the desk sergeant for a body receipt (so I could go collect my bounty money for her, and they could lock her in a cell until she went before the Wizengamot), nearly everyone had stopped paying attention to me.

The officer on duty at the desk was a familiar face, and he was accompanied by an even more familiar face.

“Hi Rosie,” my dad said. He was leaning on the countertop, a stack of paperwork in front of him, and grinning at me.

“Hi Dad. You're here late, it's after two in the morning.” I turned to the desk sergeant and added, “Hi Jack. Can you write me a body receipt for this one?”

Jack Upchurch was an MLE I'd been friends with for years. He was rising quickly in the department, but everyone pulled nighttime desk duty now and then. Normally he gave me a lot of crap when I brought in a felon (he'd made me pose for a picture after the ice lolly incident), but since my dad was standing there, he just grinned a bit and tried to be efficient and professional.

“I was finishing up some paperwork,” Dad told me. “Had to bring down a few things for the MLEs to sign.”

I didn't normally see my dad around the Ministry in the middle of the night, but he was just coming off a very long and intense manhunt for a Dark wizard who'd gone on a destructive spree from London to Cornwall, killing fifteen people along the way. It had meant a lot of late nights for Dad and for my uncle Harry. They were top Aurors and went after criminals like that on a regular basis. I avoided that kind of criminal like the plague. It was a shame plagues didn't always avoid me.

“You look none the worse for wear,” Jack remarked as he scribbled with a quill, filling out the body receipt. “No Bundimuns this time? Blow up anyone's house?”

“No. There may have been some damage to her backyard, and a bit of her house,” I admitted. “But that wasn't my fault. She ricocheted a curse.”

Jack laughed. He pretty much thought everything I did was a good joke, but he was usually good for inside information and a free lunch now and then, so I didn't mind.

“Want to grab something to eat?” Dad offered as Jack handed me the receipt and took charge of my felon. “I was thinking of getting Thai food before I head home.”

“Mum says eating right before bed gives you heartburn,” I reminded him.

“Don't care, I'm hungry. Want to come with? I'm buying.”

It _was_ very late. I debated for a moment, but I wouldn't be a Weasley if I turned down free food. “Yeah, all right.”

We ate in Dad's office. I'm pretty sure every take-away place in London knows him by now, but he always prefers to eat in his office instead of in the shop. I've always liked my dad's office, so I don't mind. There was always something interesting to look at in there, whether it was his collection of photographs of family, newspaper clippings of famous captures, or his bulletin board of current cases.

“How're things going?” Dad asked as he dug into a carton of sriracha beef stir-fry.

“Good. I got two skips this week. Scorpius has been painting in the park a lot lately. He wanted to get a few things finished before we leave for New York.”

Dad investigated the cartons of mango beef and spicy fried rice while he chewed his sriracha (Dad always ordered four times as much take-away as any reasonable person). “Right, his gallery show. That'll be nice for him, I reckon.”

Coming from Dad, this was positively exuberant praise. He'd never liked my boyfriend much. Dad had gone to school with Scorpius's dad and the two of them had never gotten along. Bad blood between the Malfoys and the Weasleys, Mum always said, although mostly these days both fathers kept their mouths shut about it and simply avoided one another.

“Got everything ready for your trip?” Dad asked. “First time going international travel with the little one.”

“I know. I think we have everything ready. Scorpius has been packing for days.” International portkeys were pretty quick, but the wait time to catch one was murder. And then we had to get through the American side of things. I'd never been to America before, so I was both looking forward to it and dreading the bureaucracy of travel.

At least I didn't have to dread the packing. Scorpius was so excited for the gallery show of his artwork in Manhattan that he had practically started packing as soon as he'd got the invitation to go.

“When you and your brother were little, your mum and I took you to France,” Dad told me. “You were good, but Hugo was a nightmare. Your mum had wanted to go by train but she was glad for the portkey by the time we were heading home.”

“Well, Scorpius and I are travelling wizard all the way. I'm not mucking about with Muggle stuff for a trans-Atlantic trip.”

“Good idea,” Dad mumbled around a mouthful of beef.

We sat, eating and chatting, for another half an hour, and then I made my excuses and went home with the leftover pad thai. Dad was heading home as well, since it was nearly three in the morning.

“Give the baby a snuggle for Granddad,” he said as we parted ways in the corridor.

When I got home, the flat was completely dark and silent. I tossed my handbag on the couch and stuck the pad thai in the fridge, then went to the baby's room. It wasn't really necessary, since Scorpius was there all day to take care of things (and did a better job of it than I probably would), but I always looked in on the baby before I went to bed.

I tiptoed in and tried to get a peek under the lump of blanket in the bed. The baby had a terrible tendency to curl up in a ball under the blanket. Scorpius insisted this was fine, but I was terrified that suffocation was imminent, despite the fact that the blanket was pretty much just a loosely woven sheet of cotton flannel that allowed plenty of air to pass through.

The lump under the blanket rolled and stretched out, and I smiled at the sleeping face of my son. I had to admit, he was awfully cute. His hair stood straight up from his head in tufts of ginger fuzz, rather like a baby orangutan. The Weasley genes were running strong in him. He resembled my father quite a lot, though I was starting to think he might still have the Malfoy pointed chin after all. When he'd been a newborn, he'd looked rather like a miniature version of my boyfriend, but every passing day made him look more Weasley. Like me.

I patted his little head and then went to my room to pass out.

Scorpius was sprawled out on his back, taking up most of the bed. I shoved him aside a bit so I could climb in, and he opened one eye.

“Did you destroy anyone's house?” he asked groggily.

“No. Honestly.”

His eye drooped shut again. Either he believed me, or he was so resigned to me destroying houses that he was no longer interested in it. Or he wasn't really awake, since it was three in the morning. I curled up against him and fell asleep.

*

When I woke the next morning (all right, it was past noon, but in my defense, I'd been out very late), I could hear Scorpius singing softly in the kitchen, accompanied by the monotone hum that my son had recently acquired to accompany his father. I hoped he had inherited Scorpius's musical ability and not my utter lack thereof. It was a little early to tell yet, since he was only ten months old.

I stumbled out of our bedroom and into the kitchen. When he saw me, my son stopped the droning hum and yelled, “Mama!” This was the only word he could say, despite much coaching from Scorpius to elicit a 'Dada' or 'Papa'.

“Hi Ramses,” I cooed, and scooped him out of his high chair.

Yes, all right, I did coo at my baby. I couldn't help it, it seemed to come with the whole motherhood package. At least I didn't do the high-pitched happy-mum voice that my cousin Victoire uses on her kids.

“You're just in time for lunch,” Scorpius said. “Or breakfast, if you want to call it that.”

I carried Ramses over to the couch and sat down with him on my lap. He poked at the sparkly unicorn on my pink t-shirt and said, “Mama.”

“That's a unicorn,” I told him.

Since 'Mama' was the only word he could say, Ramses spent a lot of time pointing at things to get us to name them. It was his favourite game. Scorpius had a lot more patience for it than I did. He could spend hours naming things. I lasted about five minutes.

Ramses had a bit of butter smeared on his chin from the toast soldiers he'd been eating. He managed to snuggle up to me in a way that wiped the butter on my favourite shirt and yet still left some on his chin. He hugged me long enough to leave a nice stain before climbing down and crawling over to the coffee table.

Scorpius handed me a plate and then sat next to me, watching Ramses as I began eating eggs and toast.

“Are you going in to work today?” he asked.

I nodded around a mouthful of eggs. “I have a body receipt to cash in. Caught that magical assault woman. Lydia might have some new skips for me, I can get started on those.” I hadn't been to the office in three days, so I was hoping there would be at least a few new cases waiting with Lydia Agnelli, our office manager.

“Don't forget we're supposed to have dinner with the Lupins tonight.”

I had completely forgotten about that. “Right, I know. Seven o'clock, right?”

Scorpius gave me a look. “Six.”

“I knew that. I'll be there.” I stuffed the last of the toast in my mouth and stood, brushing off crumbs. “Right, I'm off then. I'll see you later.” I leaned down to kiss Ramses's fluffy little head. He was gnawing happily on the strap of my handbag. I prised it out of his grip and gave him a pat before I left.

I took a look at my handbag as I made my way to the end of the hallway to the Apparition spot in our building. There were teethmarks everywhere, on the strap and on the bag itself. Bloody teething. I wondered if it was repairable. Victoire was right: kids destroyed everything you owned.

I slung the chewed-up handbag onto my shoulder and Disapparated.


	2. Heel

I sailed through the front door of Angelo's Magical Bonds and waved to Lydia Agnelli, who was sitting at her desk with her feet propped up. She was charming her nails a virulent shade of green. Our offices were in Knockturn Alley, which made most witches and wizards nervous, but Lydia and I were undeterred. Lydia's uncle was the owner of the business, and Lydia had been working there since she'd left Hogwarts. I had started about five years ago. It was hard to believe I'd been at this so long, and was still this crap at it.

“Got anyone new for me?” I asked hopefully as I handed Lydia the body receipt for last night's pick-up.

She took it with a cheerful grin and pulled the lockbox out from beneath her desk, giving it a tap with her wand. It popped open with a small fanfare, and she began to count out Galleons for me. “Just the one. It'll only be ten Galleons for you, sorry.”

I pulled a face at her. “Ten? Is that all?” Ugh, that was hardly worth Apparating for. Still, someone had to do the small bounties. The other bounty hunter working for Angelo's was Dino Agnelli, Angelo's cousin, and Dino wouldn't get off his sofa for anything less than five hundred Galleons. All the little ones were left for me.

“You said you didn't want anything difficult before you left for New York,” Lydia pointed out. “You didn't want to get into a long case, remember?”

I couldn't believe she remembered what I'd said. “Dammit,” I mumbled, and the door behind Lydia's desk opened up.

Angelo Agnelli popped his head out and gave me a once-over. “Was that the lockbox I heard? Picked up another of these idiots, have you? I don't know why I keep bailing out people like this. Honestly, I might as well leave them to rot.”

“It all adds up,” Lydia reminded him helpfully. “It's what you say when you bail out Pyxis Parmenter.”

Angelo rolled his eyes and pounded his fist against his chest. “You're killing me. Rose, try to learn how to not be a screw-up while you're in New York, eh? Maybe those Americans can teach you how it's done, and then you'll be worth paying.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “I love you too, Angelo.”

He ducked back into his office, slamming the door behind him, muttering in Italian.

Lydia and I turned back to each other.

“Can't you give me anyone else?” I pleaded. “I'm bloody bored here. You can only pack a nappy bag so many times, you know?”

“Did you pack, then?” Lydia asked in surprise. “I thought Scorpius did all that.”

This was technically true, but it was also another reason I was bored. Scorpius had everything ready for the trip, but we didn't leave for two whole days. I needed something to occupy me until then, or I'd wind up sitting around our flat watching Ramses chew on my handbags.

“You must have something,” I said, poking at a stack of files on Lydia's desk.

She snatched them away from me, then picked up a file from a much smaller stack on the other side of her desk and held it out to me. “Nothing that won't keep until you get back. Go and pick up the shoplifter, then relax, okay? You can have a day off to play with the baby and watch Scorpius finish packing.”

Maybe the shoplifter would keep me busy longer than it looked. I took the file from Lydia. “Fine,” I said, wrinkling my nose at her. “You're no fun at all, Lydia.”

“Bye Rose,” she said, grinning at me.

I flipped open the file as I walked toward Diagon Alley. Dulcie Turpin had been caught shoplifting in my cousin Lucy's bookshop, and Lucy had pressed charges. I raised my eyebrows. Lucy pretended to be quite tough but was actually rather tender-hearted; this Dulcie person must have been caught before or been a right git to make Lucy actually call the MLEs on her.

From the small, grainy photo in the file, Dulcie was a round young woman with extremely short hair. Twenty years old. I couldn't wait to see what sort of person shoplifted books.

Sighing, I Disapparated and headed for Waltham Forest.

Dulcie lived in a tiny flat above a Muggle pawnbroker. The lock on the iron gate that lead to the stairs appeared to be broken, but when I touched it, it sent a magical charge through my hand, accompanied by a shower of red sparks.

Jumping back, I stomped my feet and danced about in a circle, cursing as I shook my the pain out of my hand. Holy Kneazles, that stung. Who put charms like that on their door where anyone might touch it? Honestly.

I used my wand to slam the door open with a gust of wind and went past it, careful not to touch the iron. The stairs weren't in any better repair than the gate, but I was leery of it now. One of them creaked ominously as I stepped on it, and I prepared to Disapparate at any moment. The next step creaked even worse, and I paused with one foot on each step, waiting.

Nothing happened.

I crept up the rest of the stairs, hoping Dulcie Turpin was actually home so I didn't have to do this all over again, and at the top step, I held up a hand to bang on the door but stopped, remembering the iron gate.

I banged on the stairwell wall instead.

A few minutes later, a short and very round girl with coffee-coloured skin opened the door and looked me up and down. “Yeah?”

“Hi, I'm Rose Weasley. I work for Angelo's Magical Bonds. You missed your court date, so I need to bring you in to reschedule.” It never hurt to try to bring them in nicely. Some of them actually did come along with me after this sort of spiel, thinking 'reschedule' did not involve being arrested again.

Dulcie frowned. “I did not. It's tomorrow.”

“You did.” I waved the folder at her. “I promise, you missed your court date or I wouldn't be here.”

“What day is it? Monday?”

“It's Friday.”

“Bloody hell,” said Dulcie. “I haven't been to work all week.”

Wow. She was bound to come along quietly, the sort of people who did were always the ones who didn't have the sense to stand a cauldron upright. “Well, if we reschedule your court date first, you can go in to work after.”

“All right, let me get my purse,” she said, and then closed the door.

I waited a few minutes before I heard a loud crack from inside the flat. She'd Disapparated. I kicked the wall in frustration, then opened the file again to get her work address. Maybe she'd gone in to work to make her excuses for not having been there all week. I wondered what the hell she'd been doing that she forgot what day it was and missed four days of work.

Dulcie Turpin worked in Diagon Alley, at the seedier end of it past the old wand shop, where the second-hand and junk shops began. There was a small curry take-away shop back there that my dad frequented when Mum wasn't likely to catch him (curry gave him horrible heartburn, but he loved it anyway), with a shop next door I'd never gone into. It was simply labelled _Razey's_ above the front door. I pushed open the door and was assaulted by the smell of tobacco. The walls were lined with shelves stacked high with bins of different kinds of tobacco: flavoured tobaccos, scented tobaccos, tobaccos that gave off colourful smoke. I had never seen so much tobacco.

The smell was overpowering, and it was not well-lit. It was hard to see past the small aisles between shelves. I wove my way toward the back, and a familiar voice came from behind a dingy curtain.

“I'm sorry, I just need one more chance-”

Dulcie.

I drew my wand and tiptoed closer. The edge of the curtain, brown with nicotine, moved a bit and I could see Dulcie and a tall and skinny man standing in a narrow back room packed with yet more boxes of tobacco, in different boxes than what was out front.

“I gave you a chance last time you did this,” said the man in a distinctly Scottish accent. His arms were folded over his chest. This did not look good for Dulcie's career prospects.

“ _Stupefy_ ,” I whispered, aiming for Dulcie.

The Stunner missed and hit the shelves between the two of them. Dulcie shrieked and hit the floor; the man burst through the filthy curtain and stared at me wide-eyed.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“I wasn't aiming for you,” I said, pushing past him.

Dulcie was still shrieking. I grabbed her arm and tried to haul her to her feet, but she was too heavy, so I pointed my wand at her and cast an Incarceration Curse on her, then for good measure, a Silencing Charm as well.

“Crivvens,” the man said, shaking his head in disgust. “Turpin, you're sacked. I can't take any more out of you.”

She glared daggers at me at this, and I turned to her boss. Former boss, I should say. “Sorry about the mess back there.”

“That's all right,” he said, rather to my relief. “Just take her away and don't let the MLEs come for her, all right?”

I glanced at the boxes in the back room again. Apparently not all of them were tobacco, since he was so eager for the MLEs to stay away. Illegal substances weren't my department, though. I took Dulcie by the arm again and Disapparated.

*

It didn't take me long to get rid of Dulcie Turpin at the Ministry. It was still early enough to go cash in the body receipt with Lydia, who handed me my ten Galleons with a grin and well wishes for safe travels.

Then there was nothing for it but to go home and get ready for dinner at the Lupins'. At least that would keep me from being bored for the rest of the day.

“Eurgh,” Scorpius said as I came inside. “Why do you smell of tobacco?”

“I had to pick up a skip in a tobacco shop,” I told him.

“Don't touch Ramses until you've showered, then,” he ordered, waving a hand in front of his face as if he couldn't stand the smell.

I had to duck past Ramses' room on my way to the bathroom so he didn't notice me. By the time I was dressed again, it was nearly time to leave for Victoire's. We had to travel by Floo now that we had Ramses; he was too little to be brought by Side-Along Apparition, and we didn't own a broom anymore, not since I'd accidentally caught it on fire trying to pick up a skip. It hadn't been my fault though; the felon had been trying to get me with some sort of potion and it had reacted badly with the spells on the broom.

My cousin Victoire was waiting for us outside her fireplace, and brushed the soot off the three of us briskly before blocking up her fireplace again. Victoire's baby-proofing was extensive, though I wasn't sure anything was enough to prevent her brood from occasional wholesale destruction.

“You're right on time,” Victoire remarked cheerfully, waving us in now we were cleaned off. “Come on in. Hi Ramses,” she added, tickling him under the chin. He made a grab for her red curls with one fat little fist.

Victoire was the oldest of my cousins, and the first of us to have children of her own. She was up to four now, but she didn't seem to be finished yet. She and her husband Teddy Lupin had been popping them out left and right since they'd got married, and Teddy occasionally said he'd like to have enough children to have his own Quidditch team. Victoire said she didn't mind, because she liked a full house.

Teddy was sitting on the couch watching Quidditch on the tiny wireless. Scorpius sat down next to him with Ramses in his arms.

“Is that the Arrows?”

“Yeah. They're winning by a landslide,” Teddy added. “But everyone does against the Cannons, don't they?”

“Dad will be ever so pleased,” I said dryly to Victoire, who rolled her eyes. My father's love for the Chudley Cannons was legend in the family.

Victoire's second son popped into the room then. He was wearing goggles, and a snorkel was dangling from a cord around his neck, but otherwise looked quite normal. “Auntie Rose!” he yelled loudly when he clapped eyes on me. He'd finally learned to say his R's correctly, though I still thought he'd mispronounced them deliberately to sound more endearing. He was diabolical that way. He'd started saying them correctly when he'd found out my son's name. I didn't think the timing was coincidental.

Ramses let out a squeal of delight at the sight of his cousin Johnny, wriggled down out of Scorpius's lap to charge full-speed at Johnny on all fours, and crashed into Johnny's feet, leaving drool across his socks. Johnny bent down to give Ramses a pat on the head. I watched my godson warily. Johnny Lupin was under the impression that, because he had determined he was my personal protector, this somehow conveyed ownership to him of my firstborn child.

Ramses, for his part, seemed quite happy to go with this view of things. He loved Johnny, for reasons that escaped me. He practically worshipped at Johnny's beat-up, dirty trainers. Johnny, on the other hand, treated my son in much the same way as he treated his family's pet dog.

Johnny smiled angelically at the lot of us and scurried off to his room with Ramses crawling along behind him.

“Don't wake your sister,” Victoire called after them. “She's still napping!”

If Johnny heard her, he gave no indication of it. I thought I heard Ramses giggle.

Teddy sighed. “I don't know what we're going to do with that boy.”

“He'll grow out of it,” Victoire said optimistically. Teddy rolled his eyes and turned off the wireless with a flick of his wand.

Victoire dispatched Teddy to open a bottle of wine. She and I agree that there is no substitute for a bottle of wine when there are five children in the house. Victoire's kids always give me the urge to drink, actually.

We chatted amiably about Teddy's job and Victoire's recent forays into learning to knit from our gran, the Junior Quidditch League their oldest son Remus had started in, and the fact that Johnny had learned what crossbows were and was trying to build one (Victoire seemed to think this was both funny and cute. Teddy looked pretty much how I felt: frightened as all hell at the thought of Johnny with a weapon).

Teddy was pouring a third round of wine when we heard a little voice call imperiously from the top of the stairs, “I'm up now!”

I glanced over to see the only Lupin daughter, Dora, standing there looking rather rumpled and sleepy, her red curls tousled. She had clearly just awoken from her afternoon nap. Dora did not like the stairs, and always simply announced herself and waited for someone to carry her down rather than climbing down them herself.

Remus scurried up from behind her and hoisted her down the stairs. She was at least half his size, so this was a rather strange procedure to watch.

Once they reached the bottom step, Dora slid out of her brother's arms and walked over to us to lean against the arm of the couch next to her mother. Remus immediately left the vicinity. I sort of thought this was a hint that I ought to hide as well.

“Hello my love,” Victoire told Dora in her high-pitched mummy voice. “Run along and play now, Mummy is having a chat right now.”

Dora clearly did not care to be told to run along. “I wanna sit on your lap.”

“Not right now, my darling, Mummy is having grown-up time.”

Dora's pretty little face clouded over. I had an eerie sense of deja-vu.

“Your mother said go play,” Teddy told her sternly. She didn't move from the spot.

Victoire turned to me determinedly, carefully not looking at Dora. I was familiar with this particular parenting tactic of Victoire's; she was sure her children would stop doing whatever was annoying her if she ignored the behaviour. It sounded good in theory, and no doubt plenty of parenting manuals backed her up, but her children hadn't gotten that memo. They were quite possibly even more stubborn than she was.

“Mummy,” Dora said in a long, drawn-out whinge.

“Are you looking forward to your trip?” Victoire asked loudly over her daughter. I tried to focus on the conversation.

“To the trip, not really, I hate travelling, but I'm looking forward to seeing New York,” I told her.

“MUMMY.”

Teddy snorted. “You hate travelling? But Apparating is the only thing you're good at.”

“That's not true,” Scorpius said loyally. “She was really excellent at History of Magic.”

“I've forgotten all of it,” I assured him.

“And Charms, you did well in that. And Transfiguration, you got an E on your N.E.W.T., remember?”

“Rose is very smart,” Victoire agreed.

“Just lacking in common sense and any sense of direction,” Teddy said, not quite under his breath.

“Thanks a lot, Teddy,” I said. Victoire kicked him in the shin.

Dora had gone quiet during this exchange. I looked over at her. She was holding her breath now, and her little face was turning red but her lips were gone a bit blue. She looked very odd. This was a form of temper tantrum I hadn't seen yet. Johnny had always favoured kicking and screaming, and Remus had been quite even-tempered all his life. I didn't think I'd ever seen Remus throw a tantrum. Apparently Dora was not going to follow in either brother's footsteps.

Scorpius had noticed Dora too. “Um, Victoire-”

Victoire waved a hand at her daughter dismissively. “She'll stop in a moment.”

“She's going to pass out,” Scorpius said nervously.

“Well, that'll make her start breathing again, then,” Victoire remarked with aplomb. “How long will you be in New York?”

It was hard to concentrate on the conversation when an almost-three-year-old was standing at one's elbow, holding her breath and turning blue in the face. “Um,” I managed to say. “A week and a half. We thought we'd make it a holiday.”

“How nice.” Victoire smiled. “I've always wanted to go to New York. I know you'll be very happy, Scorpius, they do a lot of musical theatre there.”

Scorpius seemed to forget about Dora's approaching asphyxiation in his enthusiasm for musical theatre. “Yeah, we're going to take in at least one Broadway show. I can't wait to see them live. There's a production of 'Anything Goes' playing right now.”

Dora's eyes fluttered shut and she keeled over backwards. We all turned to look. Her face was clearing up, the colour returning to normal. I could see her little chest rising and falling.

“There, you see?” Victoire said calmly. “I told you she'd stop in a moment.”

Teddy shook his head at his fallen daughter. “Still, at least it's quiet.”

I nodded agreement. It actually was something of an improvement over Johnny's screaming, I had to admit.

Johnny darted in then with Ramses balanced precariously on one skinny hip. “Auntie Rose! Look!” He stepped over his sister and set Ramses down in front of me, then took a few steps back. Ramses started to crawl closer to Johnny.

“Look at this, Auntie Rose, I taught him to sit.” Johnny turned to Ramses and commanded him, “Sit!”

Ramses plopped his little nappied bottom down and gave Johnny a look of adoration. I decided I may as well not point out to Johnny that Ramses had begun sitting up on his own four months ago. It had clearly not sunk in already.

“Good baby,” Johnny said tolerantly, giving my son a pat on the head, then turned back to me proudly. “I'm training him,” he explained. “Next we're going to work on _heel_.”

“Johnny,” Victoire exclaimed, looking mildly horrified. “People don't heel.”

“Ramses will,” he retorted confidently.

I had a feeling my son was going to be heeling to Johnny Lupin very soon. Sometimes it seemed like everyone heeled to Johnny Lupin. The kid was a force of nature.

“I think it's time to eat,” Victoire announced. “Johnny, go tell your brother it's dinnertime. Teddy, go and fetch Liam, please. I'll wake Dora.”

Victoire served pot roast with parsnips and carrots. Johnny, true to form, ate only the meat, having 'accidentally' dropped his vegetables on the floor where the dog gobbled them up immediately. Dora ate the carrots and a dinner roll and threw her parsnips at her younger brother Liam, who scooped them off his forehead and ate them. Victoire and Teddy seemed completely unconcerned by all of this. I wondered why she bothered making full dinners at all.

It only took twenty minutes for Johnny to pick a fight with Dora. Both of them were sent to their rooms in disgrace, Johnny red-faced and shouting and Dora's face streaked with angry tears. Johnny slammed his door twice, probably to make sure no one had missed it the first time. Victoire pretended nothing had happened. Teddy looked more resigned than embarrassed. I finished my dinner as quickly as possible. The sooner we got the hell out of there, the better.

“Want to take one of them with you to New York?” Teddy asked, giving Scorpius a look that was half-joking and half-desperate.

“No,” Scorpius said firmly.


	3. Maiden Launch

The Radio Row International Portkey Interchange is an absolute nightmare. Scorpius and I made our way through, pushing Ramses in his pram, and occasionally wishing that hexing people for being annoying was legal. Well, I was, anyway. Scorpius is much calmer than I am, so he was probably all right.

The place was so crowded, you would've thought it couldn't possibly be all witches and wizards. New York has a denser than average magical population, and even for our kind it was a big tourist spot: the Abraham Peasegood Museum of Magical Sports History, Clabbert Bay Gardens, the Church of Transfiguration. Muggle attractions were quite popular, too. Quite a lot of the crowd in Radio Row was also made up of people making connections between international Portkeys. Wizards in business robes bustled past in a rush, looking harassed, and small families made their way through the Interchange with their luggage and screaming children.

It was a zoo.

Scorpius was still muttering over our travel arrangements.

“If they know you're travelling with a baby,” he grumbled, “they ought to give you a Portkey object that you can tie around the baby's finger so he doesn't have to be actively involved in the process. Like a piece of string.”

“That would've been nice,” I agreed. The one we'd gotten, an empty tin of peas, had definitely not been ideal. Trying to get Ramses to keep his finger on the Portkey the entire time was a job. And then once the Portkey activated and we couldn't let go, he screamed the whole time. Probably didn't like the feeling of travelling that way. But then really, who does?

Ramses was all cheerful again now, however, babbling incomprehensibly at everyone we passed. He seemed particularly taken with a wizard with a long braided purple beard who stood in front of us at the customs line.

On the other side of customs, a witch stood waiting, a sign in hand with Scorpius's name on it. She had extremely curly black hair and wore what might have been avant-garde witches' robes and might have been an extremely unusual Muggle dress. It was hard to tell. Her shoes were high heels that did not actually have the heels on. I wondered if they stayed up by magic. She seemed to recognize us, because she waved, her wand in her hand.

“Oh hello!” she exclaimed as we stopped in front of her. “I'm Yuvia Sandstone, I own the Maiden Launch gallery. It's so nice to meet you both. And this must be your young man, hello,” and she tickled Ramses' chin. “Welcome to New York! How was your trip?”

“It was all right, thanks,” Scorpius said, a little untruthfully I felt.

She started walking, into the flow of the crowd, talking all the while. We followed behind her, so that she was mostly talking over her shoulder to us. This didn't seem to bother her in the slightest.

“I'll take you to your hotel so you can rest up a bit. There's a gallery tour arranged for this afternoon, and then dinner at eight tomorrow, to welcome you. And the show starts on Friday - it's going to be just gorgeous, you're going to love it – so you'll have tomorrow to explore the city.”

“D'you think that's her real name?” I asked under my breath.

“Doubt it,” Scorpius murmured, his lips barely moving.

“We'll come up to the street right next to the site of the World Trade Center,” Yuvia was saying. “Radio Row used to be a Muggle district too, but it went underground in the 1960s when the city decided to build the World Trade Center on part of the old Muggle Radio Row. The wizards, of course, simply went underground. It's easy to do in New York. Half of everything's underground anyway.” She gave a tinkling laugh. Scorpius and I exchanged a glance.

When we got to street level, we found ourselves on the edge of a concrete park filled with yellow-green trees. Yuvia didn't seem at all concerned about the mass of Muggles we now found ourselves in.

“This is Zuccotti Park,” she said, and then turned to point northward. “Right over there is the World Trade Center. We're heading this way though,” and she pointed in the opposite direction, “toward the Financial District. You'll see Trinity Church in just a mo.”

I had no idea what any of those things were, but we followed her anyway. It was remarkably easy to blend in with New York Muggles. Probably they were used to occasional weirdness here. People did eyeball my pink unicorn shirt a few times though.

Yuvia was still talking as we walked, giving us a tour of the city, but I stopped listening. It was enough just to stare around at the huge buildings and the feeling of being in a wall of humanity. I'd been in Muggle London most of my life, and I hadn't expected New York to feel much different, but it did. Everything seemed loud and chaotic, and entirely new. I rather liked it, actually, but it was a bit overwhelming. The streets criss-crossed each other, jammed with taxis and cars and people shouting and swearing at one another, and the pavements were full of Muggles. The noise level was at least equal to central London, but somehow Ramses managed to fall asleep in his pram.

When we arrived at the hotel, I hadn't the faintest idea where we were. I hoped Scorpius had been paying attention. The hotel itself was quite pretty, jammed in between two buildings. It was extraordinarily narrow, maybe only ten feet wide, and shorter than its two neighbours. People passing it in the street did not seem to notice this. When we went through the door, it opened into a spacious lobby, carpeted in green, with wood panelling on the walls. I glanced around.

“Magically expanded?” Scorpius noted. He was looking around as well.

“Isn't it lovely?” Yuvia smiled fondly at the hotel. “I stayed here for a few days on my honeymoon with my third husband. Such a lovely place. Shame about the husband, but what can you do. Well, I'm off, I need to get back to work and you probably want to settle in and freshen up. I'll see you at the gallery at four. Ta!”

She bustled off, and we headed for the front desk to check in. The witch at the desk, a heavyset young woman with blonde hair in a ponytail and a cheerful face, took our names down and blinked slightly at mine.

“Weasley? Are you related to Dominique Weasley?”

I winced. Damn Dommie for becoming famous, anyway. “Yeah, she's my cousin.”

“I love her books,” the desk witch exclaimed. “I've read both of them like a hundred times. She's so amazing.”

Scorpius had to hide a snort behind his hand. He'd never been much impressed by my cousin Dominique. She'd got famous by writing a book (and then a sequel) about her failed marriage with her ex-husband. She had become a household name from it – apparently an international household name. She'd always been a bit too impressed with her own importance, but it was much worse now. I mean, she's my cousin and I love her, but she's a pretentious ass.

“Yeah, she's something.” I held out a hand for the room key, and she handed over a large and ornate iron key.

“Your room is on the fifth floor. Enjoy your stay.”

There was a welcome basket on our bed, filled with fruits and a box of chocolate biscuits. The room was rather small but nicer than I'd expected. There was a cot set up at the back of the room for Ramses. Scorpius investigated this; it seemed to meet his approval because he set Ramses in it and then stretched out full-length on the bed next to the fruit basket.

“I feel that exhausted. Travel doesn't agree with me.”

I moved the basket to the sideboard and curled up next to him. “You didn't mind travel to Majorca,” I pointed out.

“Well, that was when we weren't parents,” he said. This was an excellent point, so I didn't press further.

We woke up half an hour later to the sound of Ramses calling for me. Once his nappy was changed and he'd had a snack, we decided to head out to explore a bit before the gallery tour.

Scorpius had bought a map of New York City in a Muggle bookshop before we'd left London. It didn't show anything of magical New York, of course, but it was the best we could do for now. Scorpius pored over the pages showing lower Manhattan while I put my hair in a ponytail as best I could (humidity makes my hair frizzy, so this sometimes required a lot of hair potion).

“We're on Beaver Street. That ought to be pretty memorable. And the gallery is on Maiden Lane, over here.” He pointed at the map. “We can see Wall Street a bit and Battery Park. There's a memorial sculpture to the witches and wizards who helped with the 9/11 disaster in the plaza here, we could go have a look.”

“Does it say that in the book?” I asked in surprise.

“Course not, this is a Muggle book. Your mum told me about the memorial. Only witches and wizards can see it. There's one quite similar in Godric's Hollow, to your uncle and his parents. Looks like a war memorial to Muggles. Your mum says this one looks like a tree to Muggles. I want to see that.”

“I want to see the big Muggle statue in the river,” I told him.

He flipped a few pages. “That's not too far. It's got a name, you know.”

I hazarded a guess. “Big Muggle Statue In The River?”

Scorpius rolled his eyes. “Let's go. And remember not to talk about Muggles while we're on the street.”

Since Scorpius hardly knew anything about Muggles, I thought this was rather rich coming from him.

We set off with Ramses tucked cozily into his pram. It was a warm day, and he was quite cheerful after having a nice little nap. He cooed endearingly at passers-by, and most of them smiled back at him. It might have been deliberate, you never knew with children. He was learning at the feet of a diabolical mastermind, after all.

New York was no less confusing with a map in hand than it had been with Yuvia leading the way. Scorpius was rather better with it than I was, and we managed to find Battery Park. I got a good look at the big Muggle statue out in the river, and made Scorpius promise to take a boat ride out with me to have a closer look at it. He grumbled a lot about it, but he did agree to it. He hates boats, ever since he fell in the lake at Hogwarts first year. We spent some time watching a man dressed all in silver, with his skin painted silver as well, doing acrobatics on the pavement, and another man dressed as the big statue who posed for photographs with the Muggle tourists. I sort of wished I had a Muggle-style camera to pose with him myself.

After we left the park, we tried to find our way to the plaza with the memorial. I let Scorpius navigate, and pushed Ramses in his pram. We went up a cobblestone street that seemed rather British to me, and down a few more streets while Scorpius pointed out marble buildings that I didn't really care about and I watched the Muggles in suits walking purposefully and the tourists who were wandering like us. Most of them weren't reading aloud from a travel book, of course. Honestly, sometimes Scorpius just isn't cool.

Eventually we wound up on a corner where a large bronze statue of a bull was surrounded by tourists snapping photos and rubbing a rather personal spot on the statue. This seemed a bit much to me, but Muggles do like to do strange things sometimes.

Scorpius picked Ramses up from the pram to show him the bull, and I stood there with the empty pram looking around. There were a lot of tall buildings in a pale brick, with Muggles coming in and out of them busily. A bit further down the street I could see a narrow building of darker brick squeezed between two of the pale buildings. No one seemed to be going in or out of that one. I squinted a bit to see the name. It almost looked like Razey's.

I was about to point it out to Scorpius when someone whacked right into me, and I stumbled backward a bit. I put a hand to my shoulder, rubbing it as I regained my balance.

A feminine voice next to me said, “Oh, excuse me, I – _oh, not you!_ ”

I looked up, straight into the face of Ambrosia Heggs.

“You-” I managed, but she said, “Dammit,” loudly and then pushed past me, disappearing into the crowd.

“Did you see that?” I asked, but Scorpius and Ramses weren't paying me any attention. The two of them were busily making snuffling growls at each other now, probably imitating a bull. Scorpius obviously hadn't seen a thing.

I looked around again, but she was long gone. There were too many people on the street. It was too easy for crazy murderesses to lose themselves in this sort of crowd.

Ambrosia Heggs had been involved in a case (and by case I mean huge mess) I'd worked on back home about two years ago. She'd killed three people that I knew of for sure and probably dozens of others, framed a friend of mine for one of her murders, and destroyed my cousin Dominique's marriage. Not to mention selling drugs, extortion, forgery, and who knew what other crimes. Dominique's ex-husband was still in Azkaban because of Ambrosia. She had four aliases that I knew of, and she was completely mental.

And she'd broken my favourite wand.

“Everything all right, Rose?” Scorpius asked brightly as he settled Ramses back in his pram. “Ready to see the World Trade Center?”

“We don't have time for that now,” I exclaimed. “We have to call the Aurors.”

“Rose, shh.” He glanced around, but no one had noticed anything. “What are you talking about? I don't think the Americans call them Aurors, anyway-”

“Ambrosia Heggs!” I pointed wildly in the direction she'd gone. “I just saw her. Just now!”

Scorpius had never actually seen Ambrosia, but he craned his neck to see over the crowd. I found this extremely annoying.

“I don't see anything. And honestly, what are they going to do? She's long gone now.”

“I ought to tell them I saw her,” I fumed. “Maybe they don't know she's here. Maybe they don't know who she _is_.”

He didn't look as concerned as I thought he properly should be. “Yes but what can you tell them? You bumped into her on the street and then she disappeared?”

Dammit. I turned around completely, scanning the street, but she really was long gone. “I should've followed her. I might have caught her.”

Now Scorpius was starting to look alarmed. “Rose, you haven't any authority here. Even in London, you haven't any authority to go tracking her down and catching her. You're not an MLE.”

“Let's go.” I grabbed his hand and gave it a tug. “Where's the local Aurors office?”

We had to go back to the hotel to find out where the New York City magical law enforcement offices were. Turned out they called their Dark wizard-catchers Aurors after all, though the desk clerk had called them 'the feds'. The Manhattan Department of Magic was north of the area we'd been wandering in earlier that day, so at least it wasn't too far of a walk from our hotel. After rushing back to the hotel, I wasn't up for a long walk or trying to figure out Muggle transport. Scorpius came along, probably because he didn't trust me not to get in trouble without him.

The Department of Magic building was disguised as a large carpark. A sign blocking the driveway declared that there were no vacancies, and the Muggles passing it by didn't seem to notice anything. We went in the visitor's entrance, a stretch of wall under a decorative cornice that appeared solid but let us pass through as if it weren't there. I was reminded heavily of going to Platform 9 ¾, but I ignored the feeling of childishness that gave me and pressed on.

I wasn't sure I managed to impress upon the desk clerk how serious the situation was, probably because Scorpius was rolling his eyes behind my back, but she sent me up to see one of their Aurors. I made Scorpius stay in the lobby with Ramses. Served him right.

The offices were rather starker than my dad's and uncle's offices, but there was a familiar sort of air to the place. Aurors are Aurors, I supposed, even American ones. Unfortunately, these Aurors didn't know me the way the Ministry of Magic law enforcement did.

A small plaque on the door indicated I was about to speak with Reuben Jessup. His office was smaller than my dad's, and lacked the personal photographs Dad always had. There was a Quod on a bookshelf behind the desk, a hole ripped in the side from having exploded, with an illegible signature on the undamaged side.

Reuben Jessup was a tall man with a stocky build and dark curly hair cropped close to his skull. He stood when I entered the room and shook my hand.

“Please sit down, Miss Weasley. What can I help you with today?”

I took the chair opposite him, and we both sat down. I jumped right into my explanation. “I ran into someone in the street today, a very dangerous criminal I've run across before – erm, I'm a fugitive apprehension agent in England, you see – and she got away last time and obviously she's come to America now-”

Jessup's eyebrows were creeping higher and higher with every word. He interrupted me. “What is the name of this criminal? Is she a fugitive you're supposed to apprehend?”

“I never knew her real name, only her aliases,” I said. “And she's never been caught to be arrested and skip bail, so no, but-”

“So you're just reporting her presence, not bounty hunting internationally,” Jessup stated. I didn't like his habit of interrupting me.

I frowned at him. “I don't want to collect her, I only want you to do something about her. She was in the bloody street, walking round in broad daylight. She bumped right into me. She's bound to be up to something, she's a bloody nutbag.”

Jessup didn't look impressed. “I'll look into her.”

“She goes by Ambrosia Heggs. Or Mariana something. Or, um...” I tried to remember what O'Toole had called her. “Elena? Electra. Marwick, I think.” Jessup wasn't writing any of this down, so I added in annoyance, “She's dangerous, all right? She killed people with _shovels_. She was involved with drugs and forgery and all sorts of stuff. There'll be a file on her with the Ministry of Magic Auror office, you can request it.”

“I certainly will check into our contacts with the British Aurors,” Jessup assured me. I didn't believe him for a second. I sort of wanted to kick him, but I knew that wasn't going to get me anywhere.

“Fine,” I said, and stood up. Jessup stood as well. At least he had good manners, even if he wasn't taking me seriously. I reckoned the pink unicorn shirt didn't seem professional to a man in a dark Muggle-style suit with appropriately sober-coloured tie.

Grumbling a bit under my breath, I returned to the lobby. Scorpius raised his eyebrows when he saw my expression and said, “I told you so.”

Git.

It was nearly time for the tour of the gallery, so we went straight there. Yuvia was waiting for us, dressed in a flowing turquoise caftan and matching turban, her curls poking out to frame her face. I managed not to comment on this, and she showed us round the large, spacious gallery where Scorpius's paintings were being hung in preparation for the show. I had already seen all these paintings, and the room was otherwise completely bare, so I lost interest rather quickly. Ramses had never had any interest at all, and started to fuss.

Yuvia looked askance at my son, and Scorpius gave me a pleading look from behind her. He seemed quite pleased by the tour, probably because it was all about him, so I made a half-hearted gesture to the door and left them to it. I took Ramses outside and managed to shush him with a biscuit from my handbag. We walked down Maiden Lane a bit; I didn't want to turn off the street and get lost. A few blocks down we hit the river, and watched the ferry boats heading out for whatever was across the water from us. The river was full of other small boats carrying small groups of people or loaded with boxes, and I pointed them out to Ramses while still nursing a silent grudge against the New York Aurors.

More gits.

Ramses adored boats, so we stayed at the riverfront for nearly half an hour, watching the boats, before heading back to the gallery. He particularly enjoyed the boats with sails, and one boat that had a motor at the back that left a trail of purple through the water. Scorpius was standing near the front doors, chatting amiably with Yuvia when we arrived back at the Maiden Launch. He made his goodbyes and I waved to Yuvia, trying to look cheerful. This was Scorpius's big career break, after all. I reckoned I ought to be extra nice to the woman who was making it happen.

We went to a restaurant round the corner from the gallery for dinner. The time change was starting to get to all of us. I reckoned it was about time to go to sleep – we'd been up all day and it was getting on eleven at night, London time. I wasn't used to New York hours yet. Ramses fell asleep right there at the table, facedown in a plate of chips.

“I reckon it's about time to go to sleep,” Scorpius said, smiling fondly at the baby.

I yawned loudly. “Probably ought to turn in, yeah.”

“Well, did you enjoy your first day in New York?” Scorpius asked as we set off for the hotel with Ramses sleeping soundly in his pram.

“Except for the part where I saw the woman who tried to kill me?” I said, unable to hold in the sarcasm.

“At least she didn't kidnap you again,” he said optimistically.

The hotel felt much farther away going back than it had leaving, but I blamed the Portkey lag for that. We tucked Ramses into his cot and drew the curtains to block some of the noise of the city. The city may not sleep, but I certainly needed to.

I was already in my pyjamas, sitting on the bed waiting for Scorpius to finish brushing his teeth, when there was a knock at the door.

Scorpius put his eye to the peephole and then turned to give me a weird look. “Rose...”

“Who is it?” I brushed him aside and had a look myself. _Ha_.

I flung the door open. Reuben Jessup stood there with another Auror beside him, both wearing somber Muggle suits and very serious expressions.

“Bet you want to listen about Ambrosia Heggs now, don't you?” I said with satisfaction.


	4. Judged

“Ms. Weasley-” Jessup began, and I interrupted him.

“Shh! Can't you see the baby's sleeping? Keep your voice down.” I gestured at Ramses in his cot. He was curled up on his stomach with his bottom in the air.

Jessup and his partner both looked at my son askance, and then Jessup said quietly, “Ms. Weasley, we'd like to ask you a few questions.”

Scorpius and I were both in our pyjamas, and Ramses was sound asleep. I wasn't going to get dressed again so I could leave the room to speak with them, not after they'd blown me off earlier. I stood right where I was and said in a voice barely above a whisper, “Ask away.”

“What can you tell us about your encounter with the criminal sometimes known as Ambrosia Heggs?” Jessup asked. To his credit, he was keeping his voice low.

“I told you earlier, she's a bloody nutter,” I whispered. “You wasted your chance to track her. Did she kill someone? You wouldn't be here if she hadn't.”

The two Americans exchanged a glance, and then Jessup's partner whispered, “A body was found this afternoon. The cause of death was a blow to the head with a wide, heavy blunt instrument.”

“A shovel.” It was hard to keep my voice low when I felt like crowing triumphantly, _I told you so_. The thought occurred to me then that this murder probably could have been prevented if I'd managed to convince them earlier to take me seriously, and the sense of triumph was eclipsed by a sick feeling.

Scorpius looked a little sick as well, but he only shook his head slightly and put a hand on my leg.

“You mentioned earlier that Ambrosia Heggs has killed with a shovel before,” Jessup said.

“Shhh. Yeah, she did. In London. A couple of drug dealers. And she nearly got me with it. Oh, and O'Toole, too,” I added.

“O'Toole.” Jessup gave me a blank look.

“It was in the report, sir,” his partner murmured. “Barry O'Toole, another bounty hunter at the same bond agency.”

“He's retired now,” I put in.

Jessup pulled out a notebook and a quill from his jacket pocket, and they floated up into the air, the quill at attention. “How much contact did you have with Ambrosia Heggs?”

“She kidnapped me once. And I saw her a few other times too, then she tried to kill me, broke my wand, another criminal nearly killed her, and then she escaped by jumping out the window and Disapparating.” I would have done it first if I'd been able to get away with it. Apparition is my specialty. It's really my only job skill, to be honest.

“And when she kidnapped you, she simply let you go?” Jessup asked, his face carefully blank.

I wasn't sure what he was getting at. “Yeah. Well, she Incarcerated me first and left me at the Waste Authority. She threw my wand away, too.”

Jessup's partner gave a tiny cough. Jessup shook his head and asked, “How many times did you see Ambrosia Heggs prior to your kidnapping?”

"Shh," I reminded him.

He rolled his eyes and asked again, "How many times, Ms. Weasley?"

“I dunno.” I tried to remember, but to be honest it was a lot harder to remember details these days. Mum says it comes with childbirth. “Once or twice?”

Jessup's blank expression didn't change. “What was the extent of your contact with Ambrosia Heggs?”

Scorpius's hand flexed a bit on my leg. “You already asked her that,” he said tightly.

“Do you have any other information on Ambrosia Heggs? Known associates? Current activities?” Jessup's partner asked then. I got the feeling he felt he was salvaging the conversation. Interrogation, more like.

I shook my head. “It was a couple of years ago that I saw her last, when she leaped out of that bloody window. And everyone I could have named that she was involved with is either dead or in prison. There should be some sort of testimony from Madame Mihalek, shouldn't there?” Ambrosia's former boss had gone to Azkaban when Ambrosia had got away, but I didn't know how much information she'd actually been able to give about Ambrosia, whom she'd known as Mariana.

Ambrosia, or whatever her name really was, was disturbingly good at covering her tracks. She had a new fake identity every time I turned around.

“Thank you for your time, Ms. Weasley,” said the partner, and Jessup's notepad flipped shut and flew to his pocket, with the quill right behind it. They both stood up then, and I stood with them. Scorpius stayed where he was. I reckoned he was annoyed with their questions. “Call me if you think of any further pertinent information,” Jessup's partner added, handing me his card.

After they left, I glanced down at the business card in my hand. It read simply, _Agent David Hatchcock_ , and a phone number. I handed this to Scorpius, who glanced at it.

“A phone number?”

“It's a vague card, isn't it? And they dress like Muggles in those suits. I reckon the card is designed so he can hand it out to Muggles or wizards.” I sat down on the bed next to him. “So?”

“I don't like the way they were asking those questions,” Scorpius muttered. “Like they thought you were suspicious or something.”

“Didn't give us much to go on, either.”

“Much to go on?” he echoed. “Rose-”

“I'll have to do some poking around on my own,” I mused. “I wonder who she killed this time. You wouldn't think they'd be this concerned over a drug dealer getting murdered, so probably she's not killing more of them. They wouldn't send Aurors for that, anyway. Just the MLEs.”

“Rose-”

“It must be something big, don't you think? Something with Dark magic or the Aurors wouldn't be following up with me.”

“And threatening you,” Scorpius added, not quite under his breath, then he went on less quietly, “Rose, it's none of our business if something _is_ going on, we're only here for the art gallery, remember? You don't have any authority in America.”

I waved this aside. “I don't need legal authority to wonder what she's doing, do I?”

He didn't look as if he trusted me. I gave him a kiss and hopped off the bed so we could turn down the sheets. Scorpius slid off as well and grabbed a corner of the blankets, but stopped in the middle of folding them back.

“You're not going to get involved, are you?”

“Of course not. We're here for your show,” I told him, flashing my trustworthy smile. He didn't look as if he believed me, so I added, “Would I lie to you?”

He threw me a look. “You lie to me all the time, Rose.”

I tried the trustworthy smile again, and he sighed in defeat.

“You know you could've just put a charm around the cot so the baby wasn't disturbed,” he said as we climbed into bed.

I grinned. “I know. But they wouldn't listen to me earlier.”

“You are cruel.” He gave me a kiss.

*

“Look at this!” I exclaimed, waving the newspaper at Scorpius.

We were sitting in the hotel's dining area, eating the free breakfast. I'd already finished far too much bacon and waffles, feeling quite American for it, and had picked up the morning's _Gotham Magical Times_ that a neighbouring table had abandoned. Scorpius was feeding Ramses oatmeal and threw me an exasperated look.

I set the newspaper down on the table and read the article off to him. _“Prominent wizarding socialite Noah Ellery, son of Judge Greyson Ellery and his wife Cornelia, was found dead yesterday, victim of a vicious murder._ I knew it was someone more important than a drug dealer,” I added.

Scorpius rolled his eyes.

“The street his body was found on was just right around the block from where we saw Ambrosia,” I went on. “She might've been coming straight from murdering this bloke before she bumped into us!”

“I like how you include me, even though I didn't see her,” Scorpius remarked.

“We should go by and have a look at the crime scene.” I took a swig of orange juice while my boyfriend turned to stare at me in annoyed disbelief, the spoon of oatmeal still in his hand.

“You're joking.”

Ramses made a grab for the spoon and then yelled imperiously, “Mama!”

“The baby's hungry,” I told Scorpius, and hid behind the newspaper. While Scorpius fed Ramses his oatmeal, I read the article again. High-profile victims were handy for getting all the details. The reporter had tried to go to the judge's 'Sutton Place brownstone' for a statement and had been run off by the judge's other son. They never went to so much trouble for just anyone who'd been murdered without rich or famous parents. If the judge hadn't given a statement yet to the press, at least a couple of reporters were bound to be camped out nearby, hoping for photos or anything printable. It ought to be easy to find Judge Ellery's home. There was even a photo of it in the article. I could probably Apparate to it if I concentrated hard enough.

“I don't trust that look on your face, Rose,” Scorpius said then, wiping a bit of apple juice off Ramses's chin. “We're going sightseeing today. That's all.”

I folded up the newspaper, tucked it into my purse, and smiled brightly at him. “We can pick up where we left off, in the Financial District.”

Somehow Scorpius agreed to this, though he probably didn't believe that I only wanted to sightsee. We finished breakfast and made our way back to Wall Street, with Scorpius tucked neatly in his pram. I let Scorpius read from his guidebook for a good hour before I brought up visiting the crime scene again.

Scorpius looked annoyed. “Rose, we're not going to the crime scene.”

“Just a quick look. The street is right there, look.” I pointed at his map. “We can dash over, look around, and be gone again in a mo. No one will ever even know we were there.”

He groaned loudly.

The crime scene was roped off with yellow tape, and Muggle-repelling charms had the usual street traffic bouncing off the area and walking on the other side of the street. I strolled up to the edge of the tape, craning my neck to see over the heads of white-robed crime scene wizards. Scorpius hung back with Ramses, tapping his foot and looking impatient.

A man in a rather cheap suit with a badge clipped to his belt saw me and came over at once. “Ma'am, you can't be here, this is a crime scene.”

Of course it was a crime scene. Why did he think I was there? “I know that, I read the tape.”

“Only city officials can be here.” He shooed me away with his hands.

“I only wanted to know what happened exactly-”

“We don't share details from ongoing cases with the general public.”

Blimey, I wasn't used to being the general public. Every MLE in the Ministry of Magic knew who my parents were. Suddenly I missed Jack Upchurch, my usual source of information in the MLEs. Jack always told me whatever he knew about my cases.

Not that this was a case, officially.

The New York MLE was giving me a stern face now, his hand on his wand. “Ma'am, you need to leave the premises immediately.”

I went back to Scorpius and Ramses.

“Do I have to say 'I told you so' again?” said Scorpius.

“Mama!” said Ramses.

I pulled a face at both of them. Ramses laughed, and we set off for more sightseeing. Scorpius was reading the guidebook again, but I was deep in thought as I pushed Ramses's pram, and didn't hear a word he was saying.

Obviously I wasn't going to get anything out of the New York MLEs, any more than I had out of the Aurors. They didn't know me; they didn't have any reason to share details of the crime with me. I didn't have any authority, as Scorpius kept reminding me, to track down Ambrosia. I wouldn't get any paycheck for doing it, either. But for some reason, I couldn't let it go. I wanted to know what she was up to this time, and I didn't want her to get away again.

Ambrosia had escaped before, and now she was obviously setting up shop again in New York. Whatever she was doing, she'd already killed once. What if I could find her when the Aurors couldn't? I might prevent more murders. I didn't think I would endanger myself just from doing a little bit of investigating. Ambrosia was dangerous, but she had only tried to kill me once and that was a couple of years ago. And she hadn't done a thing to me on the street except walk away.

I glanced down at Ramses, who was entertaining himself by chewing on a small stuffed Hungarian Horntail my uncle Charlie had sent him for Christmas. It was his favourite toy. He looked so tiny, so very helpless, and a chill went down my spine at the thought of endangering him. His mummy captured criminals for a living, yes, but none of them had been as dangerous as Ambrosia Heggs. Not since Ramses had been born, anyway. I'd kept the serial killers to a minimum (although really, that hadn't been my fault).

I didn't want anything to happen to my baby, but I didn't want anyone else getting killed if I could stop it.

Besides, I could just look into things, find out a bit about what she was doing, and take the information to the Aurors. They were sure to listen this time if I gave them a solid lead. I could work out what Ambrosia's plans were, what she was up to, and tell the Aurors. I could stop Ambrosia without actually having to stop her myself.

I only had a little over a week left in New York. I didn't have any time to lose.

*

We went back to the hotel for Ramses's naptime, since he was utterly miserable to be around if he missed his nap. Scorpius tucked the baby into his cot and then flopped out on the bed. The cleaning staff had already been there and made the bed for us. It must have been a nice break for Scorpius, not having to do the housework.

He had only just laid down when I announced brightly, “I'm just going to run out to the store. Back in a mo.”

“To the store?” Scorpius turned his head to get a better look at me. “Rose, if you're going to do what I think you're going to do-”

“Won't take me but a moment,” I trilled, and darted out the door before he could stop me.

Sutton Place was on the East River, according to Scorpius's map, and Judge Ellery's street was right near the Queensboro Bridge. I Apparated to the vantage point the photographer had used for the _Gotham Magical Times_ , which turned out to be across the street. There was a man standing nearby when I appeared, but he didn't seem at all surprised to see me pop out of thin air.

“Who're you with?” he asked, his arms folded across his chest. “He won't give you a statement, y'know. He isn't talking to any of us. The _Magical New York Daily_ already gave up and went home.”

“I'm not a reporter,” I told him, then pointed at the brownstone painted a pale pink. “It's that one, yeah?”

He frowned. “You're British.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Ellery still won't give you a statement,” he said. Clearly he did not believe that I wasn't a reporter.

I crossed the street and went to the pink brownstone. It loomed over me, an enormous four-storied building divided into terraced homes, each painted a different colour. The pink was a nice pale one, almost salmon. I reckoned I had a t-shirt in that same colour, actually.

I pressed my wand to the door knocker and heard chimes ringing through the house. Eventually a young man with close-cropped dark hair, his eyes red from obvious crying, answered the door and looked me up and down.

“Can I help you?” he asked. “If you're a reporter, you can get lost now. My father is going to release a statement in the morning.”

“I'm not a reporter,” I assured him. “I'm investigating the death of Noah Ellery.”

I was getting pretty good at implying I was an MLE without actually claiming I was one.

The young man at the door obviously bought that I was with Magical Law Enforcement. His eyes welled up a bit, but he blinked the tears away and waved me in. “I'll see if my father's available.”

He ushered me into a large room decorated all in blue, with heavy paintings hanging all over the ceiling. Half of them were empty, and the other half appeared to be just as upset as the young man who'd answered the door. Noah Ellery had been well-liked by his family, it seemed.

I waited alone, looking at the expensive furniture and poking absently at the ornaments arranged on the small end tables, while the young man went to fetch Judge Ellery. There were ornate painted eggs in little gold stands, sculptures of griffins, and in one of the gold-leafed frames on the wall was what looked like part of the hide of a dragon. I had stood up to get a better look at it when I heard a deep, gravelly voice behind me.

“Ukrainian Ironbelly.”

I turned to see an older man with steel-grey hair, dressed in long black robes embroidered with silver moons and stars, watching me with sharp brown eyes. Greyson Ellery nodded at the dragon hide in the frame. “My great-grandfather brought that with him when he first came to this country. Claimed to have killed the beast himself.”

“Oh. It's, um, quite lovely.”

The judge gave me a long look. “You're not with Magical Law Enforcement. And you're not a reporter.”

We locked eyes, and I knew I wasn't going to fool him. “No, sir. But I am trying to investigate the woman the Aurors think killed your son.”

“I don't have anything I can tell you, young lady. I don't know why anyone would want to kill Noah. He was a good boy. Always a good boy. My youngest, you know. I can't imagine he could have done anything to bring about this horrible tragedy.”

I didn't believe him. Oh, he was telling the truth about his son, but he knew more than he was saying about why Noah had been killed. I knew how to speak to judges, thanks to my mother, so I tried to frame my next question as respectfully as possible. “Sir, I met the woman the Aurors suspect is responsible. She tried to kill me a few years ago. She's dangerous and mad, but she doesn't kill for no reason. Are you absolutely certain your son wasn't involved in anything that could have brought him into her path? Even accidentally?”

Judge Ellery gave me a long look. After a while he asked, “Do you have children, young lady?”

“Yes,” I said, a little uncertainly. “Just one.”

“Hmph.” He rubbed a hand over his chin. The gesture reminded me of my father, and I suddenly felt very sorry for the judge. “I'm afraid I can't help you. Giles shouldn't have let you in. He's very heartbroken over his brother's death. We all are.”

“I'm so sorry for your loss,” I said, and I meant it more than I would've thought. Maybe it was because he'd reminded me of my own son. Parents shouldn't have to bury their children.

“Thank you.” The judge stepped back into the doorway, and I took this as my cue to leave. He didn't see me to the door, walking off down a hallway carpeted in blue brocaded silk rugs, further into the house.

I retraced my steps to the front door, and just as I was opening it, a noise behind me made me turn. A woman, probably around my mother's age, with blonde hair in an elegant French twist, stood in a doorway, watching me. She wore no makeup, and her eyes were tired, but she was still very pretty. This, I thought, must be Cornelia Ellery.

“Here,” she said, and held out one hand.

I took the small piece of paper, and she disappeared into the depths of the brownstone again.

As soon as I was outside, I Disapparated, reappearing outside our hotel. I leaned against the building and unfolded the scrap of paper. There was a name written on it.

 _Heckie Shanahan_.


	5. Destructuralism

The slip of paper was burning a hole in my pocket by the time I got back to the hotel. I was fired up to find out who Heckie Shanahan was and what he or she (it was hard to tell, but I was guessing it was a bloke) had to do with Ambrosia or Judge Ellery. The lobby was bustling, and I threaded my way through toward the desk, ready to put an International Floo call to Lydia at the bonds office when I remembered the time difference between London and New York. It was nearly one o'clock in the morning there. Not only was Lydia not in the office right now, she was probably fast asleep.

I stopped in my tracks for a moment.

There was no point Flooing Lydia until morning. I wasn't going to be able to find out a damn thing for a few more hours. I hadn't the slightest idea how to look into him myself, so I gave it up and headed upstairs.

Heckie Shanahan would have to wait, and so would I. I hated waiting.

Scorpius was wearing his best Muggle clothes when I got to the room, pacing and looking impatient, and Ramses was sound asleep. The sitter that Yuvia had arranged for us was also there, a young witch with extremely purple hair. I wondered if she was a Metamorphmagus like Teddy Lupin, or if she just charmed it that colour like my cousin Molly, who often sported green hair.

“Where the hell have you been, Rose?” Scorpius demanded. I took in the button-down shirt and tie, the hair neatly braided down his back, and belatedly remembered that we were supposed to be having dinner with Yuvia Sandstone that evening.

“What time is it?” I asked, grabbing a dress out of the wardrobe.

“You have about ten minutes.” He followed me into the bathroom and watched as I changed and attempted to throw on eyeliner and lipstick. “You forgot, didn't you.”

“Of course not. I'm just running late, that's all.” I swiped on some mascara while trying to give him my trustworthy smile and nearly stabbed myself in the eye.

Scorpius sighed. It was a wonder he hadn't given me up as a bad job already.

“How's the sitter? Does she seem all right?”

He nodded. “She seems responsible. Ramses liked her.”

Ramses probably liked the purple hair more than anything. He was quite fond of that sort of thing. Sometimes Teddy Lupin changed his face and hair to entertain the children, and Ramses always clapped when Teddy did his hair in a rainbow.

“Where were you?” Scorpius asked again, leaning against the doorframe. “You were investigating that murder. Don't bother lying again, I know you didn't go to the store.”

“I might have done,” I pointed out. He gave me a look, so I admitted, “But I didn't. I was trying to find out a bit more about that murder, all right?”

Scorpius watched me apply lipstick, looking as if he were struggling internally over something, and then finally asked, “So what did you find out?”

“Not much really. I found the home of the murder victim and tried to speak to the family. Met the judge, but he wouldn't tell me anything.”

I was going to add that the judge's wife had given me a lead, but Scorpius glanced at his watch and asked if I was ready yet, so I decided to keep it to myself for now. I didn't really have anything to tell him, anyway, I reasoned as we left for the restaurant. The sitter, whose name turned out to be Kenya, pulled out a book as we left and sat down to read. My cousin Dominique's face smiled up at me from the front cover.

The restaurant wasn't far off, and I led the way with Scorpius holding my arm as we Apparated. He'd got his license, of course, but I had always been stronger at Apparition than he was, and he didn't seem to mind. He didn't seem annoyed with me any longer, and took my hand as we walked inside.

Yuvia had a table at the front, right in the window, and waved to us when she saw us. We made our way over and took our seats at the large round table she'd secured. We were the last ones there, but no one seemed at all concerned. Scorpius shook hands with a tall, dark-haired man wearing a bright orange suit, cut with wide lapels; both of them smiled and exchanged greetings. Clearly they had already met.

“This is Yuvia's husband, Quincy,” Scorpius told me then. “I met him yesterday at the gallery. Quincy, this is my girlfriend, Rose Weasley.”

Quincy seemed nice enough, and undertook the rest of the introductions. There was a sharp-faced financier named Nicholas Spitznogle and his dark-haired ballerina girlfriend Bronislava. She spoke with a Russian accent, and Nicholas was holding a martini glass that was clearly not his first of the evening. Next to them sat Paulina Swanscott, a witch in her forties who was apparently a rather famous Manhattan socialite. I thought I recognized her from a few issues of _Witch Weekly_ , and she mentioned several times during the evening how much she adored London and Paris and the pureblood communities there. I didn't much like her. She seemed to quite like Scorpius, probably because his relatives were practically socialites as well.

The other person in our party was a performance artist that Yuvia spent twenty minutes raving about. Haven Lockwood had her blonde hair in long dreadlocks, decorated here and there with a painted bead or a small coin, and had recently spent four days in her underwear locked in a glass box over Radio Row.

“I was demonstrating the postsublimation of the paradigm of sexuality in destructuralism,” she explained to me.

Scorpius coughed into his napkin to hide his laughter. Everyone else looked rather impressed. The waitress brought a round of drinks then, and Yuvia started talking about Scorpius's gallery show, much to my relief. I had no idea what any of those things Haven had said actually meant, but I could probably fake my way through a conversation about Scorpius's art.

“We're all very excited for the show,” Yuvia was saying. “It's going to do extremely well. The perfect thing for the current New York scene. The intricate detail, the fascinating faces, the bucolic landscapes – it's just what we need after the recent trend toward the abstract.”

“One can't simply buy abstract portraits for one's home,” Quincy put in. “They need a Silencing Charm or they keep yelling at you about why their face looks so weird.”

“Bet that makes for a terrible gallery show,” I remarked, and Scorpius winked at me.

“I've never cared for abstract art,” he said. “I always try for the best realism possible.”

“Abstract art is useful.” Haven's face was intense, and she brushed her dreadlocks off her shoulders as she leaned forward, elbows propped on the table. “It can show so much more than realism ever could. It's why art always moves back to the abstract.”

“Realism can have just as much meaning,” Scorpius argued. “Meaning is ascribed by the viewer, not the artist. We can't control how much, if any, meaning is found in our art.”

“Of course we can,” said Haven. “I always hand out pamphlets.”

Scorpius laughed. I listened quietly, sipping my drink, as they went on discussing meaning in realism and the abstract, and watched Scorpius's face. He looked so happy, talking art with other artistic people. Nicholas and Paulina both joined in, and knew rather a lot about art as well. Nicholas was a collector, and Paulina liked to be part of the scene so she bought art. Bronislava the ballerina was quiet, nursing her whiskey sour. Probably she didn't know much about art either.

The return of the waitress derailed the art conversation, and after she'd gone again, Paulina turned to me.

“You said your name is Weasley, didn't you?” she asked. “Are you related to Dominique Weasley, the author?”

Bloody Dominique. “She's my cousin, yeah.”

“I just adored her book. Such a terrible tragedy she went through.” Paulina put a hand to her chest and fluttered her lashes in exaggerated sympathy. “You must be so proud of her.”

“Erm, yeah, she's brilliant. All my cousins are,” I added, not wanting to focus too much on Dominique, since she was probably my least favourite cousin and I couldn't speak about her book without rolling my eyes. I suppose it had been tragic when her husband left her, had his memory erased, and tried to pretend it had never happened, but she'd been so pompous about becoming a famous author that I couldn't entirely feel sorry for her.

“Do you have a large family? I understand the Weasleys are quite a prominent pureblood family in England. Particularly since Harry Potter married into the family.” Paulina regarded me with wide, innocent eyes.

I nodded. “Oh, there's rather a lot of us. I've got eleven cousins, and that's just my first cousins. Uncle Harry and my dad have been best friends for about a billion years. He's married to my dad's younger sister,” I added, because it was expected of me. Everyone wanted to hear a bit about my uncle Harry. Apparently he was even famous in America. At least he wasn't annoying about it like Dominique.

“We have our own prominent wizarding families here in New York,” Paulina told me. “The McCreights, the Armisteads, the Ellerys-”

My heart jumped a bit. I might not be able to find out more about Heckie Shanahan just now, but maybe I could get some gossip about Judge Ellery and his family. Something told me Paulina would be only too happy to share what she knew. “The Ellerys? Weren't they in the paper this morning?”

“Oh, yes. Poor old Greyson.” Paulina's face became a picture of distress, though I noticed she was careful not to arrange her expression in a way that might cause wrinkles to form. “I've known him since I was a girl, you know. His family is one of the oldest and wealthiest wizarding families in New York. Such a shame about young Noah. Lovely boy. All the Ellerys are very well-regarded.”

“Not sure you could say that about Wyn Ellery,” Nicholas put in, tossing back his drink.

Paulina waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing was ever proven. Wyn is the eldest brother,” she added, glancing at me and Scorpius. “He had a bit of trouble not long ago when he won the election, the Magical Congressional Fourth District race, some silly accusations of misconduct-”

“I think the word you're looking for is _fraud_ ,” said Nicholas.

“Nothing that anyone who's anyone was concerned about,” Paulina shot back.

“Yes, because dead people voting is nothing to worry about.” Nicholas rolled his eyes. “Not that you purebloods care, always covering for each other. Rumors of mob involvement-”

“Wyn would never associate with people like that,” said Paulina hotly. “All right, he may not be as good a man as his brother-”

“Wyn Ellery is a son of a bitch.”

“Nicholas!” Bronislava slapped the table with the flat of her hand, making the glasses jump. “You promised you would not talk politics at the table. You always fight with everyone.”

“She started it,” Nicholas muttered childishly, but he winked at his girlfriend.

Paulina gave him a baleful eye for a moment, but recovered quickly, and turned back to me with a restrained smile. “Greyson Ellery is a good man, and he's done a lot of good for the magical population of this city. He's put away some of the worst criminals the city has seen. Gangsters, murderers, Dark wizards, racketeering and money laundering – Charles Rocke is serving life at Montain thanks to Greyson's sentencing.”

The others nodded, but I hadn't the faintest idea who Charles Rocke was. Scorpius looked a bit confused too, and Quincy hurried to explain.

“Charles Rocke was a mob boss. All sorts of trouble in the city when he had power. And Montain is the high-security wizard prison in the Upper Bay. It's visible from the Statue of Liberty, actually. The Muggles can't see it, of course. It's where the worst of the worst go. Charles Rocke was definitely one of the worst of the worst.”

“Just the sort of person Wyn Ellery is friends with,” Nicholas added.

“Well, anything his brother may or may not have done is not his fault. We can't help who we're related to,” said Paulina peevishly.

“Yeah, just look at your cousin Louis,” Scorpius joked, nudging me, and I grinned.

“True. My cousin Louis is sort of infamous,” I explained. “He has absolute crap taste in women.”

Scorpius and I spent the next ten minutes telling Louis stories, which had everyone laughing as we ate our dinner. The food was excellent, and not just because Yuvia was paying. Louis probably wouldn't be able to show his face in the art circles of New York after this, but Louis could find his sort of women anywhere he went, so I wasn't bothered. The stories about him eased the tension that had been building, and we were able to finish out the dinner without Nicholas and Paulina getting into another argument. She seemed to take his comments on the Ellery family quite personally, probably because she was friends with them and because her family was the same sort of old pureblood family that they were.

Haven and Yuvia went back to debating art with Scorpius toward the end of the meal. I kept quiet and let them talk, and thought about the Ellerys.

Judge Ellery sounded like quite a good fellow, but his brother was starting to interest me more. Rumors of mob involvement, Nicholas had said. Maybe it was the elder Ellery brother who had somehow caused Noah Ellery's murder. Would the mobsters kill his nephew for something he did? Did he not have children of his own? Or was the judge somehow involved as well? I still thought he knew more than he'd said, but was it that he knew his brother was somehow involved or something more specific? I wasn't sure.

And where did Ambrosia fit into all this? She'd had at least two years to build up a new identity in New York, and somehow I didn't think she was going to settle for the lower rungs of the mob ladder here any more than she had in London. She'd been preparing a hostile takeover of one of the biggest criminals in the United Kingdom's magical population, a top ten on the Auror's Most Wanted list. Maybe she was doing the same thing here. Charles Rocke had been put in prison for the rest of his life. What had happened to his criminal organization? Maybe Ambrosia was taking it over the way she'd tried to do to the Madame's. If Judge Ellery had put Charles Rocke away, was he working with Ambrosia? Somehow I didn't think so, but his brother was apparently a bit crooked. Maybe he was as well.

Of course, Louis was absolutely ridiculous and Victoire was the sanest person I knew, so being siblings with a maybe-crooked politician didn't necessarily mean Greyson Ellery was a dirty judge.

I still didn't know how Heckie Shanahan fit in, either, or why Cornelia Ellery had given me the name. I checked Scorpius's watch, tilting his wrist a bit to see the time. It was nearly one in the morning. By the time we returned to the hotel, I might be able to Floo Lydia and catch her as she was coming into work.

Quincy noticed me checking the time and misinterpreted the reason. “It's getting late, especially for our key-lagged friends here, I think. It must be almost morning in London. We'd better call it a night. You two go on, Yuvia and I will get the check, like we said earlier.”

We said our goodbyes then, and I tucked my hand in the crook of Scorpius's arm as we left the restaurant.

“Are you tired?” he asked. “Or were you just ready to leave?”

“I'm not tired,” I assured him. My head was too full of speculation about American gangsters and crazy blonde murderesses with shovels to be tired.

“Good. Because Ramses will still be sound asleep when we get back to the hotel.” He leaned down to whisper a few suggestions in my ear, and his warm breath sent a shiver down my spine. He brushed my curls off my neck and pressed a kiss there.

“Hold my hand,” I told him. “I'll Apparate us back.”

We rushed up to our room, sent the babysitter home in short order, and jumped into bed.

Two hours later, Scorpius was sound asleep, but as exhausted and happy as I was, I couldn't seem to fall asleep. I sat up and looked down at my boyfriend, who was snoring lightly, sprawled out on his back. He probably wouldn't notice if I got up and made a quick Floo call to Lydia. Scorpius was generally in a near-coma state at times like this. After times like that, I should say.

I slid out of bed, dressed quickly, and went downstairs to the lobby. It was nearly three o'clock in the morning, but there were still quite a lot of people there. I went up to the desk clerk and asked about International Floo calls.

“We have a grate in the guest services office that's set up for International calls,” the clerk told me. “It's two Troys per minute though.”

I wasn't good with currency exchange rates. “How much is that in British wizard money?”

He looked blank. “Um, I think there's about an even rate between Lions and Galleons right now. I don't know how the Troys compare to Sickles though. There are eight Troys to a Lion, if that helps.”

Troys were worth more than a Sickle then, because there were seventeen Sickles in a Galleon. I tried for a moment to do the maths in my head, but gave up. Maths had never been my strong point. I really needed Lydia anyway. Surely we could spare a couple of Troys, however much they were.

Fortunately Lydia was already in the office, setting her things up for the day. She looked surprised to see me in the Floo.

“Hi Rose! Are you all right? How's New York?”

“Fine. This is costing a ton though, so I have to be quick. I need you to look into someone named Heckie Shanahan. Can you do that?” Belatedly it occurred to me I ought to look into the Ellerys more as well. “And Wyn Ellery. Whatever you can find on him and his family.”

She nodded, her face bewildered. “Okay.”

“I'll Floo you back in the morning – afternoon – in a few hours.” I smiled at her. “Thanks, Lydia.”

“Sure, no problem.”

I thanked the desk clerk on my way out and hoped Scorpius was still asleep. When I got back to the room, opening the door as quietly as possible, I slipped out of my clothes and back into bed. Scorpius rolled over and threw an arm over me, pulling me close.

“Mmm,” he mumbled, his lips against my shoulder.

I wiggled a bit to get comfortable, and he snored in my ear.

*

The next morning, Scorpius poked his head in while I was in the shower.

“I'm taking Ramses downstairs for breakfast. He's getting too fussy to wait.”

“I'll meet you down there,” I told him.

“Want me to make you a waffle?”

“Yes.” I tossed the washcloth at him. “Go away, stop staring at me.”

“I like staring at you.” He grinned and left, and I could hear him chatting to Ramses and then the door closing.

I rinsed off as fast as I could and got dried and dressed in record time. My hair was still damp as I rushed downstairs to the guest services office. The hotel employee manning the room set up the Floo for me for an international call, and I stuck my head in the green flames.

“Angelo's Magical Bonds, London!”

Lydia spun into view, sitting at her desk. She grinned when she saw me and hurried over, a folder in her hands. “Hi Rose! I have a few things for you on those names you gave me. I reckoned this was fastest, since international Floos are pricy.” She handed me the folder, and it flared green as I took it. “Angelo doesn't know I was doing a side project for you, so you better go before he catches me. You know how he is when he thinks we're wasting his money.”

“That's okay, I have to go before Scorpius catches me,” I told her with a grin. “Thanks Lydia, you're the best.”

“I know.” She waved at me. I pulled my head out of the flames and the world swam for a minute as the office spun out of view and the hotel appeared around me. Floo calls are disorienting, especially international ones.

I tucked the folder into my handbag and hurried off to meet Scorpius in the dining area. Ramses was eating toast soldiers when I got there, and chirped “Mama!” as soon as he saw me. I bent to kiss the top of his fluffy red head as I sat down.

“Today is the gallery show,” Scorpius announced, handing me a cup of tea. “But I don't have to be over at the gallery until six to make sure everything is in order.”

The gallery show wasn't until nine. He really didn't need to be there until then. I gave him a look. “I'm sure Yuvia will have everything ready.”

“I know. I just want to make sure, that's all.”

He was nervous, I realized. It was adorable. I smiled at him and leaned over to kiss him. “Everything's going to be wonderful. I bet you sell every painting.”

He smiled ruefully. “I hope so. Thanks, Rose.”

“Let's go see that Muggle statue today,” I suggested. The ferry ride out to the statue would give me time to read the file from Lydia. Scorpius was bound to be annoyed, but there was nothing for it now.

Ramses cheered with glee when he saw the ferry boat. Scorpius didn't look too chuffed, but he climbed aboard anyway. We were surrounded by Muggles, and since we couldn't talk about the usual things we talked about in case we slipped and mentioned magic, we talked about Ramses. After a little while, Scorpius went to change Ramses's nappy, and I pulled the file out of my purse as soon as they were out of sight.

Lydia had written a few pages of notes on the Ellery family. Most of it was things I'd heard last night from Yuvia's friends, but there was more detail on Wyn Ellery's electoral fraud. He'd been accused of everything from bribing the counters to having his cronies vote multiple times under assumed identities. He'd gotten away with it, it seemed, but the general tone of most New York witches and wizards seemed to reflect Nicholas Spitznogle's views: that Wyn was a crooked politician who would do anything he had to do to get elected. He was not as well-liked as his brother. Greyson Ellery tried to live up to a higher standard, to be a better man. He seemed to genuinely love his wife and children, and was known for judging the sort of cases that garnered death threats. He didn't let it deter him, and set his judgements how he felt was best. I rather liked the judge, actually. He reminded me a bit of my parents. That was probably biasing me in his favour, but what Lydia had turned up seemed to support my opinion.

There was a newspaper clipping of one of the judge's ongoing trials. The defendant was an accountant accused of money-laundering for the mob, an accountant named Heckie Shanahan. Lydia had circled his name. He was out on bail pending his next trial date, which was scheduled for next week. It would probably be postponed now thanks to the murder of the judge's son. I wondered if that was why Ambrosia had murdered Noah Ellery. Surely there were better ways of getting a trial moved to a new date. Murdering the judge's family members seemed extreme.

A note stuck on the clipping of Shanahan's trial said that Lydia had been unable to find out much else about him.

“What is that?” demanded Scorpius's voice.

I looked up to see him looming over me with Ramses in his arms. He craned his neck to read the papers. I saw realization settle over his features quickly, and he gave me a stern look.

“Rose, we're on holiday. You're not supposed to be working.”

“This isn't work,” I insisted, stuffing the folder back in my handbag. “Nobody's paying me to do this.”

Scorpius sat down next to me, and Ramses immediately crawled into my arms, tugging on my hair as he pulled himself upright to stand on my lap. “Seeing this statue was your idea, Rose.”

“I know it was. And it'll be fun, I promise.” I pulled a lock of my hair out of Ramses's little fist. “A family day out, looking at famous landmarks, right?”

And while we were out in the Upper Bay, I'd get a glimpse of Montain, the American wizard prison for high-security criminals. Hopefully soon Ambrosia would be seeing it from the inside.


	6. Hostages to Fate

The Muggle statue in the river turned out to be quite interesting, although I think the boat ride was the highlight for Ramses. We toured the statue for a while, pointing things out to Ramses, who didn't seem at all interested in it. Scorpius pulled a pad of paper and a pencil from his backpack and handed Ramses off to me to he could dash off a few sketches. While he was doing that, I walked over to the edge of the walkway facing south to get a good look at the rest of the harbour.

Montain was clearly visible in the distance, a couple of hundred yards out. It wasn't as big as I'd been expecting, but it was built like everything else in New York City: extremely tall. It stuck up out of the bay, a shiny black tower with slick sides and no visible openings. It was sleeker than Azkaban, and skinnier, but it looked like it could still house hundreds, if not thousands of prisoners.

The worst of the worst of American wizards. I wondered how many more prisons like Montain were scattered around the United States. They were a larger country than the United Kingdom, and probably needed a lot of prisons, while we made do with only one.

I wondered if it was at all possible that the Americans would let me interview Charles Rocke, just to see if he knew Ambrosia. Probably not. I didn't have a shred of evidence to connect them.

Not yet, anyway.

“Mama,” said Ramses, shifting in my arms. I turned to see Scorpius walking toward us, his sketchpad now tucked safely back into his backpack.

“What is that?” he asked, nodding out into the bay.

“It's Montain. The wizard prison,” I added in a whisper. None of the Muggles near us seemed to notice anything.

Scorpius gave me a suspicious look. Ramses reached out both arms to him and said, “Mama.”

Scooping our son into his arms, Scorpius said in a low voice, “Rose, don't even think about it. There's no way you're getting in there, unless it's because they've arrested you. So just don't. My show is tonight.”

Honestly, it was like he didn't trust me at all. “I never said I wanted to _go_ there. I just wanted to have a look at it.”

We both rolled our eyes and looked back at the prison. A passing Muggle, heading back to the ferry boat, glanced at us strangely for staring off into what looked to him like an empty bay.

*

When we got back to the hotel, Scorpius's jittery nerves were making him quite ill-tempered. He was annoyed that I'd finished reading the file from Lydia on the ferry back to Manhattan, and harangued me about it all through lunch. I agreed not to continue the case so he would stop bothering me, although I'm not sure he entirely believed me.

Scorpius tossed his backpack onto the bed and set Ramses down on the floor with the small pile of toys we'd brought along for him. Ramses immediately set off for the plush stacking rings (he loved to chew on them), and his father heaved a sigh as he sat on the bed. I sat next to him, and we watched Ramses pull apart the stacking rings and gnaw happily at the blue one.

“I reckon that's a molar coming in,” Scorpius said.

I nodded. I was debating how to tell him that I planned to go out and do some more investigating. Now that I had Heckie Shanahan's home address, thanks to Lydia and the _Gotham Magical Times_ , I was dying to go pay him a visit and see what he knew about Noah Ellery's murder, and about Ambrosia Heggs. Maybe I could wait until Scorpius went to the bathroom and then slip out while he was occupied and couldn't stop me.

“Oh, just go,” he said, and I started.

“What?”

Scorpius gave me a kiss on the temple and then a little shove. “Go. But if you're not back before I have to leave for the gallery, I'm going without you, and I'll eat all your favourite canapés before you get there.”

I leaned over to kiss him, and then hopped up. After giving Ramses a pat on the head (“Mama,” he said, but I think he was addressing the stacking rings), I was out the door.

Heckie Shanahan lived in Midtown, in a large flat in Gramercy Park. It seemed like quite a nice neighbourhood, and Shanahan's building overlooked a wide avenue. The doorman let me in without question; apparently he was used to odd-looking people turning up to see Mr. Shanahan.

I knocked on the door and waited a few minutes. No one answered, but I thought I heard someone moving around inside. I knocked again, louder this time, and finally heard the door locks click open. A purple chain stopped the door from opening more than a few inches, and I saw a round, red face appear right at eye level.

“Who are you?” the man asked nervously.

“Are you Heckie Shanahan?” I asked, trying to look unassuming and trustworthy.

“Who's asking?”

He'd asked me twice what my name was, and wouldn't confirm his. I wasn't new to confirming identities of people who didn't want to be found. This was definitely Heckie Shanahan. And he was scared.

“I'm Rose Weasley,” I told him gently. “I'm a private investigator-” this wasn't strictly true, but I'd used it in the past and found it got better results than admitting I was a bounty hunter “-and I'm looking into the murder of Noah Ellery. I'd like to talk to you, if you don't mind.”

He gave me another nervous stare, and then the door closed and I heard the chain sliding back. Heckie opened the door and waved me inside. His flat was comfortably decorated in a way that said he had money enough to hire a decorator but not taste enough to put his own stamp on the place. It looked quite like an expensive office. But then, the man was a money launderer. He probably didn't have official premises anywhere. Heckie didn't match the place at all, though I expected he could dress up well enough when he wanted to. He was currently wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt with a plaid dressing gown, and a bit of sweat shone on his bald spot.

“I really don't know anything that could help you,” he told me, waving me onto one of the grey sofas. He spoke with a thick New York accent. It was just the way I always imagined Americans speaking, so I quite liked it. “I never met Noah Ellery. Only his dad, and only in court when my trial date was set. He hardly even looked at me.”

I decided to spring my next question on him out of nowhere, to see his reaction. “Do you know a woman named Ambrosia Heggs?”

Nothing sparked behind his small, round eyes. “No.”

“You might know her by another name. She goes by a lot of them. I met her first as Ambrosia, but she's been called Mariana Peffer, Electra Marwick, Xanthe Black. She's got blonde hair, a bit pretty, and she likes to kill people with a shovel.”

Heckie drew in his breath sharply, and his eyes darted away. _Ah_. That was the reaction I'd been hoping for.

“I don't know anything about her,” he said firmly. “I don't know who you're talking about.”

“We both know that's not true. What name is she using now? She killed Noah Ellery, didn't she?”

He was silent for a while, and he looked afraid. I let him stew it out, hoping he'd start talking. Eventually he said, “Shovel ain't a good way to die. Why do you want to know about her? Who are you?”

I wasn't sure what to say to him. I didn't want to tell him I was a bounty hunter, because even without legal jurisdiction, criminals tend to not want to hang out with me and tell me things. “She tried to kill me once, a few years ago. She got away, and I never caught her. I want to see her go to prison.”

“Someone else will take over in her place,” Heckie said. “Someone always does.”

“Maybe. But she'll be in prison.”

He frowned, as if he didn't quite get me. “You're not a cop, are you? You kind of talk like one, but you don't act like one.”

“I'm not a cop. My dad is an Auror,” I admitted.

Heckie nodded. “Cops' kids are almost as stuck as criminals' kids. Got to go one way or the other, don't you?”

He had a point. A lot of MLEs were second or third generation at it: following the footsteps of their parents and grandparents. I didn't know as much about multi-generational criminals, but hey people did like to keep up family businesses, so I was willing to take his word for it. “I'm not an MLE or an Auror, though. No one is even paying me to do this. I want to find enough about Ambrosia Heggs so that the Aurors can put her behind bars.”

It was actually true. Even if no one ever paid me, I wanted Ambrosia put away. It bothered me that she was out there, murderous and insane and knowing exactly who I am. Now that I had Ramses, the thought of her bothered me even more. I wasn't going to be able to sleep well until Ambrosia was in prison.

Heckie was silent again for a while, watching me closely. He must have decided in my favour, because he told me, “She wanted my trial changed. She didn't say anything else to me about it but that. Next thing I know, that Ellery kid is dead and my lawyer won't return my phone calls. It ain't good. I should've turned state's evidence. The feds have been asking me to, but I thought I'd get off and be able to keep working – but I don't think I will, not now...”

“She'll probably kill you when she's done with you,” I said, thinking of the good-looking forger who'd helped Ambrosia out in England. “She's done it before.”

Heckie didn't look surprised. He'd probably already figured that out. He leaned back against the back of the sofa and rubbed a hand across his face. “Cripes. I never should've worked for that crazy bitch. But when the Rock went away-”

“Charles Rocke?” I interrupted, trying to keep the note of excitement out of my voice.

“Yeah. I used to work for him. Then he got sent up the river, and here's this little blonde witch telling me I work for her now. She took out three of my best men. I couldn't fight her any more. I got family in Weehawken and she knew it. She knew where my house is there, and where my ma lives. I had to do it.”

I felt a little sorry for him, even though he was laundering money for mobsters. He seemed like a nice guy, and after all, he didn't kill people, he just did paperwork. Shady paperwork, but still.

“She's got cops in her pocket,” he added, watching me intently. “I think there's a dirty Auror, too. I didn't want to go into MLE custody because of that. She could make me disappear if she wanted to, and then my ma right behind me.”

“What name is she using now?” I asked again.

He seemed to be loosening up, because this time he answered right away. “Anastasia Leatherby. It's not her real name. I looked her up once, when I was setting up one of her dummy corporations. Anastasia Leatherby didn't exist until three years ago.”

I wondered if it was one of the identities set up for her by McBride, the forger she'd murdered in England, or if she'd gotten a new pet forger. I was starting to doubt that I would ever track down her real name.

“Why did she murder Noah Ellery, then?”

“I don't know,” said Heckie, looking troubled. “I think it's because of me, though. If I go to court the day I'm supposed to, I can't get to this deal I've been working on for her. She needs me free to finish it, and if I go to court, I'm going to Montain. Judge Ellery will make sure of it. I think she killed the judge's son so the trial date would be moved. But now I'll never get a fair trial if the judge thinks his son was killed because of me.”

A fair trial would probably put him in Montain anyway, but he didn't seem to see that. “She sacrificed you in the long term to get what she needs in the short term.”

“Yeah.” Heckie's face was drawn. He knew full well he would be discarded after she'd decided he was all used up. I was willing to bet she had another money launderer available to take over when Heckie was gone. Maybe she had a whole battalion of them, for all I knew.

“What's the deal you've been working on for her?”

“I don't know all the details,” he admitted. “I do the money, and she keeps me in the dark about most everything else. I don't really want to know too much. There's a meeting coming up soon, and she has to have the money ready by then – bringing large amounts of cash is problematic,” he explained. “Showing up with a hundred thousand dutch is a lot of weight to carry, even with charms to counter for the weight of the gold. It's not safe to carry that much in Lions. So I convinced the Rock that it was safer to do it electronically. It's how the Muggle criminals move their money. Sometimes they use cash, because Muggle money is paper, but the big-timers wire their money to anonymous bank accounts in the Caymans and Switzerland. The Rock saw it as modernizing. Leatherby, she seems to think the same way. But this guy she's working with, he doesn't like it. He's been real skittish about using electronics. I've spent a lot of time working on him.”

“Why doesn't she just give him the gold if that's what he prefers?” It seemed easier. I didn't entirely trust electronics. They shorted out at the worst times, or didn't work properly. Wizards had finally adapted the Wizarding Wireless Network in the UK to show pictures as well as sound about ten years ago. The picture was small, and black and white, but it was a step forward, everyone said. My mum's parents were Muggles and had television at their house. Apparently Muggles had had that for years. Wizards are slow to catch up on technology, what can I say.

“Leatherby doesn't want to give in. She told him they were doing it electronically.”

Typical. Ambrosia was making a power play and wouldn't back down. “What type of deal is this? Who's her partner?”

“I don't know. I hear things. He's got a reputation,” Heckie said, now looking more troubled than ever. “I don't really want to meet this guy, but I don't have a choice.”

Great, another scary bad guy. Just what I needed on my holidays. “So when is the meeting?”

“I don't know the exact details yet. Soon, though. Down at the docks.”

There wasn't much he knew. It was a little frustrating talking to Heckie Shanahan. “Any ideas how I could find out more about this shipment?”

Heckie was silent for a while. I was starting to recognize this as an indication that he knew something and wasn't sure if he should talk about it. “He don't speak English very well. Some kinda European, Russian or Slavic or something. She's got a translator. I had to arrange pay for the poor thing. Only met her once. She looked scared as all hell. I don't think she took the job willingly.”

“Can you give me her address?” I asked, trying to hold in my excitement. If she was the translator, she was bound to know quite a lot about the deal and when it was taking place.

“Yeah.”

While he was writing it down for me, I said as kindly as possible, “Thank you for telling me all this.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Think I'll go talk to the D.A. again. If I testify against her, maybe they'll give me immunity and put me in Witness Protection. It worked for one of Charles Rocke's enforcers. Dunno where he is now.”

I hoped he was going to be all right. I sort of liked him, despite the criminal alliances and illegal financial activity. “I think that's a good idea, Mr. Shanahan.”

“Yeah,” he said again. “Hope it doesn't get me killed. Good luck.” He handed me the slip of paper with the translator's name on it.

*

The translator lived in one of the outer boroughs of New York, in Queens. Her building looked tiny and run-down after seeing Heckie's place in Gramercy Park. There was no doorman, so I went straight up to the fifth floor and knocked on her door. She opened it, and the same purple chain that I'd seen on Heckie's door kept hers open only a crack. I could see about half of her face. She had the same cafe-au-lait skin that my cousin Roxanne has, and her curly hair floated around her face. She looked a little exotic and when she spoke, she had a slight accent that I couldn't place.

“Who are you?”

“I'm Rose Weasley. Are you Anita Spiker?”

She nodded, and I could see the fear in her eyes. It was a sad commentary for whatever Ambrosia was up to that the people she was terrorizing were even afraid of me.

“I wanted to talk to you about a few things, can I come in?”

“I don't think that's a good idea.”

“Heckie Shanahan gave me your name-”

“Please go away,” she begged. “Please, I can't talk to anyone, she'll kill me – she'll kill my little girl, please go-”

“She'll _what?_ ” My shock must have shown on my face, because she seemed to realize now that I wasn't going to hurt her.

“She has my daughter. She took her from school one day and I have to – look, you have to go. Please just go.”

“Okay.” Her fear was contagious. “Okay, but if you change your mind, you can find me at the Thistle Hotel. Rose Weasley.”

She closed the door in my face, and I went downstairs to the street again, feeling a little shaken.

Ambrosia had kidnapped her daughter to make her cooperate. Threatening to kill a child... And she had killed the judge's son, though he'd been of age. She would probably be only too willing to kill Anita Spiker's daughter, even if the little girl was only a child still.

Suddenly I felt afraid for Ramses as well. Ambrosia knew I was here. She'd known about Scorpius the last time I'd met her. Did she know about Ramses now? Only if she'd been keeping tabs on me this whole time. Somehow I doubted that – why bother if she wasn't going to come after me? And if she'd wanted to come after me, she would have by now. She probably didn't know about Ramses.

Still... I ought to warn Scorpius to be more alert while he was alone with Ramses. Just in case.

I hurried back to the hotel, and found Scorpius was already dressed for the gallery show, wearing a set of navy blue dress robes.

“Oh good, you're back. I'm going to run over to the gallery and just check that everything looks right, then I'll be back to get you and we can go to the show. So make sure you're ready. Oh and Ramses will need to be fed in a bit here,” he added, and gave me a quick kiss.

I was about to tell him about Anita Spiker's kidnapped daughter, but he was so focused on his show, I didn't want to ruin it. I could always tell him later. Tomorrow morning would be soon enough. We'd be at the gallery show, and Ramses would be with the babysitter, and I could tell the front desk not to tell anyone that he was in the room or let anyone up.

I mustered a smile for my boyfriend. “Have fun. I'll see you later.”

He left, and I was alone with Ramses, who was laying on the floor on his tummy with his favourite dragon toy beside him, playing with blocks. The sides changed colours as he stacked them. I sat down next to him, and he crawled into my lap, knocking down the tower of blocks he'd been building. I hugged him tight, and held him until he got bored and wriggled away.

*

The gallery show was in already in full swing when we arrived. Yuvia had convinced Scorpius to show up fashionably late, because as she'd put it, “Everyone who's anyone will get there half an hour late anyway.” Scorpius had paced the hotel lobby for fifteen minutes before the anticipation had finally gotten to him, and we'd arrived twenty minutes late. Apparently we weren't quite anyone who was anyone.

Quincy greeted us at the entrance, and led us straight to the drinks table. Cocktails and New York seemed to go hand in hand, which was perfectly fine with me.

“So far, so good,” Quincy told us cheerfully. “Drink up, and I'll start introducing you to some select people. Rose, would you like to look around for a bit? I know you haven't seen the installation yet.”

I agreed, and let him lead Scorpius away before I started wandering the gallery. I'd already seen everything Scorpius had ever painted, but it was different seeing it all this way. The lighting was low, with small balls of light hovering over each painting to illuminate them in a small pool of ethereal light. They cast a glow that managed to be both hazy and bright, and highlighted the canvases. It looked beautiful. In the landscapes, trees waved in a faint breeze, their leaves shivering delicately, and waves lapped at gentle seascapes or crashes against rocky shores. A few still portraits were scattered around: Muggles in Hyde Park, whose likenesses didn't animate with the final painting charms. I'd always found that odd, but then, the still Muggle photographs were odd to me too, no matter how many times I'd been to my Muggle grandparents' house.

Scorpius, who had no Muggle relatives, found the idea of still portraits completely fascinating. From the looks on the faces of the guests at the gallery, most of them agreed with him.

I saw Scorpius a few more times the rest of the night. He would pop up now and then to kiss me, obviously having the time of his life.

“Having fun?” he asked, two hours after we'd arrived.

“Of course,” I told him, smiling, and he went off again, to explain a particular portrait of an old, homeless man to one of the well-dressed witches. I hoped she bought that painting; it creeped me out a little. What can I say, he had crazy eyes.

I spent most of the evening staring blindly at paintings, deep in thought about Anita the translator and her missing daughter.

She was my best lead, but she wouldn't talk to me as long as her daughter was in danger. I had to rescue the girl so her mother would help, and I had to do it without anyone finding out I'd had anything to do with it. It was a tall order.

If Ambrosia found out the little girl was gone, Anita might be killed outright. I hoped she'd need her translator enough to let her live until the meeting was over, and then maybe Anita could escape and disappear. America was a big country. Surely it would be easy to lose one's self here. If this client of Ambrosia's was as skittish as Heckie had said, then he might get suspicious of a last-minute change of translator.

I couldn't count on that, not with a child's life at stake. I pictured what I would do if Ramses were in danger, and the urge to run back to the hotel and snatch him up into my arms was almost overpowering. I had another drink and tried to calm down, tried to focus on a plan to get Anita Spiker's daughter back.

It was going to take a powerful Confundus Charm and some judicious memory altering to trick the bodyguard into thinking the girl was still in his custody. And probably a Disillusionment Charm for me. I wasn't that great at that spell. Normally I got my cousin Victoire to do it for me. She could make you practically invisible. But Victoire wasn't around.

Memory charms were a bit easier, since I'd done them often enough in my line of work, but this was on a scale I hadn't dealt with. I wished my mum were around to ask for advice, although probably she wouldn't tell me anything if she thought I was going to do something illegal with the information. Dad might, though, and so would my old friend Jack Upchurch, and both of them could perform memory charms legally.

It was really hard to function in New York without my usual resources.

I was starting to feel a bit antsy again about having left Ramses with a babysitter. It'd been hard to leave him; I'd wanted to stay and hold him all night so I knew he was safe, but I'd convinced myself he was safe enough for tonight. I had kept my nervousness hidden so I didn't spoil the evening for Scorpius. This was his big night, and he'd been waiting a long time for it. It wasn't easy to put aside my anxiety over the baby, though.

My dad had told me once, when I was ten and he'd had a particularly scary case, that the bad guys will often leave your family alone because everyone has hostages to fate. Going down the road of kidnapping an Auror's child only makes things worse. I could still picture his expression that day. He'd glanced at Mum, hugged me, and said, “Sometimes you have to do what's right, even if there's temporary danger, to get to permanent safety later.”

My dad and uncle hunted down the worst of the worst, even when their families might have been endangered by it, because it made the world a safer place. I'd always admired that greatly about them, but I'd never fully appreciated the strength it took to do that until I'd had my own hostage to fate.

The world would be a safer place with Ambrosia out of commission.

But I didn't think she was one of the criminals who didn't go after families, or at least not any more. Last time our paths had crossed, she'd known about Scorpius but had never attacked him or anyone else in my family, only me. She seemed to have got worse since then, though. She'd wanted something from Judge Ellery, and she'd killed his son to get it. She'd had the translator's child kidnapped to force her to cooperate. I was afraid she wouldn't hesitate to hurt Ramses if I went any further down this road.

I didn't know how to stop, though.

Somehow I had to keep Ramses and Scorpius safe, and like my dad, I was willing to risk it for the permanent safety – at least for now. If things got worse, I could always send them home to London. Warning Scorpius was the first thing I had to do, as soon as the show was over. I couldn't spoil it for him.

A murmur going through the crowd drew my attention, and I looked up to see Yuvia climbing up on a chair, calling for everyone's attention. She was wearing the most elaborate dress I'd seen yet, with ruffles charmed to change colour in a hundred shades of blue, so that it looked like waves of navy and sky and turquoise were travelling down her skirt.

“I just wanted to thank you all for coming tonight – and for purchasing tomorrow-” this drew a smattering of laughter “-and to toast to tonight's fresh new talent from across the pond, Scorpius Malfoy!”

She held up her glass, and I saw more toasts from all around, amidst the applause. Scorpius was beaming, waving and thanking people, and looked absolutely thrilled. I watched him fondly. It was nice to see him so happy and successful.

He made his way over to me a bit later. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah. Did you have fun tonight?”

“Loads.” He was still beaming. “You?”

“Yeah, but I'm ready to get back to Ramses now.” I smiled at him and leaned in to kiss him. He wrapped an arm around my waist as we left the gallery.

When we got back to the hotel, the antsy feeling had increased, and I dashed ahead to the room. Scorpius was still exhilarated from his success, but he seemed to have finally registered my mood.

He didn't say anything when I rushed past the babysitter to check on Ramses, who was sleeping soundly, and he didn't say anything when I collapsed onto the bed with relief that our son was all right. After the babysitter was thanked and sent home, he finally turned to me.

“What's going on, Rose?” he asked, kicking off his shoes. “You're not usually this mental over leaving the baby with a sitter.”

“Nothing.”

He gave me a look, still pulling off his clothes.

“All right,” I admitted, “it is something, but let's talk about it tomorrow. Tonight we can celebrate your show, okay? It was a huge night for you. Everyone loved your paintings.”

Scorpius still looked a bit suspicious, but he was mollified by my praise of the show. I spent the rest of the evening mollifying him further.


	7. Bohemian Rescue

“We're going to a show tonight,” Scorpius announced over breakfast. “We can go buy tickets this morning for whatever is still available. Bound to be seats at some show, and I'm happy with any of them.”

I paused in buttering my toast. “What, tonight? I can't, I have to-”

“You don't have to work,” he interrupted. “We're on holiday, remember?”

“It's not work,” I hedged, “but it is something I have to do.”

I could see him getting annoyed, but it was true. I couldn't just leave that little kidnapped girl in Ambrosia's hands without at least _trying_ to rescue her. I'd never be able to look myself in the eye again.

“Are you going to tell me why you were so mental about Ramses last night?” Scorpius asked suspiciously.

I drank my coffee to give myself a moment to think.

On the one hand, telling him might make him more protective so he was sure to keep Ramses safe. On the other hand, he might do that by packing us all up and going home. Probably it was best not to tell him anything at all, although he wasn't going to like that.

“I'm working on that,” I said eventually. Evasion has always been one of my strong suits. “Look, I have to do this today, and I don't know if I'd make us late for a show tonight. We can go tomorrow night.”

Scorpius gave me a long look, and then went back to his bacon. “All right, Rose. But you need to tell me what's going on.”

I wasn't so sure that was a good idea. Maybe I could tell him bits of it, at least. “We'll talk about it,” I said, carefully avoiding any sort of promise to actually explain.

“When do you need to go do whatever it is you're doing?”

He sounded bad-tempered. I couldn't really blame him. I watched him feeding Ramses and wished I could just trot out to see the city with them and forget all about Ambrosia and whatever she was doing. But I pictured Ramses being kidnapped, like Anita Spiker's daughter, and I couldn't do it.

“The sooner the better,” I told him. “I'll try to be back as soon as possible.”

Scorpius sighed, wiping dribbled eggs off Ramses's chin. “Try not to destroy any buildings, Rose.”

I left him to it, and set out to do something I'd never done before. Kidnappings couldn't be that much different than felons on the run, could they? Either way, it was a person who didn't want to be found. They left trails without realizing it. Surely some of my skills would transfer over.

Surely I had some skills.

I went back to Anita's first, since I hadn't any details on her daughter or the kidnapping. The building in Queens didn't look any less run-down and depressing today. I felt very sorry for Anita Spiker as I knocked on her door, looking at the peeling avocado-green paint and brown carpet of the corridor. It was a dingy place to live, and she must be in complete despair over her little girl.

Anita opened the door, her curls confined in a ponytail today. She looked a bit hollow-eyed, as if she hadn't slept in a long time. She had taken the chain off this time, though. Maybe she wasn't as afraid of me now.

“What do you want?” she said, and I heard the faint trace of her accent again. Caribbean maybe? I couldn't tell.

“I want to talk to you about your daughter,” I said in a low voice. “Can we speak privately?”

Anita gazed at me with distrust, but she waved me inside. I looked around quickly as I walked into the tiny living area. Her flat was even smaller than mine, and looked as if she had not lived there long. There were no personal mementos visible, only bare furniture and a small pink backpack lying forlornly on the coffee table.

I wasn't sure how long Anita would let me stay, but I sat down on the ratty old chair next to the couch. She saw me glance at the backpack again as she sat down in front of it.

“They brought me that. To prove they had her.”

“Do you know where they're holding her? Or who is holding her?” It wouldn't be Ambrosia herself. She was good at acquiring underlings, and from what Heckie had told me, she had better things to do anyway.

Anita shook her head. “I don't know. They haven't said. They haven't even let me speak to her.”

“I'm going to try to get her back,” I said, and Anita stared at me.

“Why?” she asked baldly.

“Because I'm a mum too.” I met her eyes, and she looked down at the pink backpack again.

“I can't help you. If they see me leaving here, they might kill her. If they saw you here, they might kill her. You shouldn't have come.” She didn't look happy, but she didn't look as terrified or angry about this as she had yesterday.

“I know. That's why I need to find her fast. If there's anything you can give me, that would help a lot.”

“They took her from school. The teacher – she's a Muggle – they hexed her, but she saw them. Big, she said, at least six feet. Wearing odd clothes, and she saw their wands. She wanted to go to the police, but I knew they could never know. Not the Muggle police, that's for certain. I had to wipe her memory after she told me what she'd seen.”

I nodded. It was probably the best way to handle it. Getting Muggle authorities involved would only get them killed, and complicate everything. “Did you go to Magical Law Enforcement?”

Anita shook her head. “By the time I got home, she was waiting for me with the backpack. That bitch Anastasia. If I could have killed her and still gotten my baby back, I would've done it.”

The look on her face gave me a bit of a chill, but I couldn't entirely blame her. I sort of thought I might not be responsible for my own actions if it were Ramses.

“Do you have a photo of her? I'll start looking. My job at home is to track down missing persons.” So I could drag them back to be arrested, but that seemed beside the point.

Anita nodded and got up. I waited until she was in the other room before picking up the backpack and looking it over carefully. It smelled slightly of sulphur, and there was an odd black stain on it. Not blood. I knew a blood stain when I saw one. That looked more like oil.

I set it down quickly at the sound of footsteps, and Anita came back into sight with a small photo clutched in her hand. She didn't sit down again, only stood there staring blankly, as if she weren't sure she should take this last, final step of disobedience to the kidnappers' instructions. I stood up and held out one hand, hoping she would trust me.

“Her name is Georgia.” She handed me the photo.

The little girl smiled up at me from the black and white wizarding photo, waving to the camera and twirling, carefree and adorable with a missing front tooth.

“I call her Gee,” she said then, and there was a faint trace of a smile on her lips. She looked tragic and beautiful and reminded me a bit of my cousin Dominique, who did beautiful and tragic for book signings but was always ferociously honest in her love for her son.

“I'll do everything I can to get her back to you,” I promised Anita. I didn't know where that had come from, but it felt like the right thing to say. The honest thing to say. I really was going to do everything I could. I hoped it was enough.

*

I decided to start in my usual place: seedy wizarding pubs. New York had just as many of these as London did, according to the desk clerk, who gave me a long list of likely places. Even though it was far too early for the general drinking crowds to be out, someone was bound to be there.

Any self-respecting magical community had pubs populated at all hours by wizards and witches of questionable character. Often these people were relatives of mine.

New York didn't fail me. The first pub I went to had at least a dozen people there, drinking and eating and generally looking disreputable. No one had heard anything about a kidnapped little girl, though, and no one admitted to recognizing the name Anastasia Leatherby or any of Ambrosia's other known aliases.

At the fourth pub, I met a wizard anthropologist who was studying hags and ghouls, sitting at the opposite end of the bar from what was clearly a hag drinking a Bloody Mary. I hoped it wasn't literal. No one in the pub knew anything, just like the first three pubs, but it wound up being my first lead anyway.

The anthropologist, Ulysses Puckett, kept me there chatting for twenty minutes after I mentioned my grandparents had kept a ghoul in their attic for years.

“Fascinating!” he exclaimed, nearly dropping his quill in excitement as he shuffled papers for a fresh sheet. “And did you ever notice if it behaved differently around women than around men? Did it by chance have a preference for striped tube socks?”

I finally got him off the topic of ghouls, steering the conversation to the local underbelly of society. This wasn't usually quite so easy, since I had to dance around the subject, but something told me there was no need for that with Ulysses Puckett.

I leaned closer to him. “Where would I find the types of crooks who might kidnap a little girl?”

“Oh, you're in the wrong part of town for those sorts,” he told me. “You ought to try Midtown.”

He must've seen from the blank look on my face that I hadn't the foggiest idea where those were, and kindly looked over my list of pubs, circling the likeliest places and adding a few of his own. It was like a guided tour to shopping for hired guns in New York City.

“If you stay in Manhattan, these are your best bets,” he concluded finally, passing the list back to me. It was now noted heavily with names, locations, and small sketches of street crossings.

As glad as I was for his help, I hated feeling stupid and helpless. I was out of my element here. It wasn't a nice feeling. I needed a partner, I thought, thinking wistfully of Victoire. Not that Victoire would be any help, since she'd never been to America and only did surveillance anyway.

I left Mr. Puckett scribbling notes about the hag at the bar, or possibly about the Weasley family ghoul, and went on to the Flatiron District. It wasn't far from our hotel, actually, and there was a handy Apparition point next to a monument to some Muggle naval officer. Suddenly running into Puckett seemed like very good luck. Being able to Apparate like a local made me feel more confident.

The confidence stayed for five more pubs. By the time I'd exhausted the seedy pubs in Hell's Kitchen and the handful in the Garment District and moved on to the Meatpacking District, the confidence was long gone. I trudged into pub number twenty-seven feeling a fluttery panic that I had promised something I could never deliver to a terrified mother. I hoped my interference hadn't made things worse, at the very least.

I sidled up to the bar between a bald man hunched over a glass of firewhiskey and a very tall, athletic woman with the most enormous hair I'd ever seen. She was wearing a gold sequined minidress that showed a great deal of tanned skin, matching gold sparkly stiletto heels that had to be six inches tall, and more makeup than I'd ever seen on one person before, though it didn't hide her strong Roman nose. I suddenly felt very drab, even though I was wearing my favourite pink unicorn t-shirt, with the rainbow glittery horn.

The sparkly woman looked me up and down and then turned away a little disdainfully. I tried to catch the bartender's eye, but she was firmly stuck at the other end of the bar where a a very thin brunette was nursing a very pink cocktail, obviously hanging on the brunette's every word.

I decided to try the bald man first. “Hi, I'm investigating the disappearance of this little girl,” I began, flashing Georgia Spiker's photo at him. “Have you heard anything that could lead to her whereabouts? Anything at all you could tell me would be very helpful.”

The bald man glanced at the little girl, and shook his head. “I don't like to get involved with that kinda thing. Leads to early death.”

“Helping people ain't never lead to early death, Howard,” the tall sparkly woman said loudly. Her voice was deep, a low alto. Maybe even a tenor. “You gotta man up.”

“It does if you're helping the wrong people,” Howard said sourly, then nudged me. “You ask her about criminals. She _knows_ most of them.”

“Shut up,” the sparkly woman informed him. “Honey, let me see that picture.”

I showed her the photo, and she clucked her tongue loudly. “She's so little, she can't be more'n eight or nine. Poor baby. Who do they think took her? Her daddy? You know some of these parents, there's a custody fight and next thing you know somebody's kidnapping their babies and running off to Florida.”

“No, this is definitely not like that. Her mother is being coerced, and someone is holding this girl to force the mother to cooperate.”

Her perfectly painted mouth fell open. “Oh my God. I can't believe the state of things sometimes. Howard, did you hear that?” She poked the bald man in the shoulder with one extremely long and sharp fingernail. It was painted fluorescent pink, with gold glitter at the tip.

“I didn't hear nothin'.” Howard hunched down lower over his drink.

This didn't seem to faze the sparkly woman. She waved him off with a _chah!_ sound. I was starting to like her. “Did you check with Tanny Jack?” she asked.

“Who's Tanny Jack?”

She raised one heavily pencilled eyebrow at me. “Tanny Jack is a bookie, baby girl. He knows where everyone is, cause he's everyone's bookie. You lookin' for a villain in this city, you got to ask Tanny Jack.”

I nodded. Bookies were always a good source back home, too. I felt a bit more in my element at the tie to home. “Can you tell me where to find Tanny Jack?”

“Oh sure, I'll take you over there. I want to put a score down on the game. Are you British? You sound British. I always like to hear a accent, though I'd rather hear it on someone tall, dark, and nekkid.”

I was grinning now; I couldn't help it. “I'm British, yeah.”

“I thought so. I'm pretty good with a accent. I dated a guy once, well not really _dated_ , but he was Scottish. He wasn't tall enough for me though. I like a man who I can look up to, you know what I'm sayin'?”

Since she had to be at least seven feet tall in those heels, I wondered how often she actually found a man tall enough for her.

“I'm Rose Weasley,” I said, sticking a hand out to her.

She shook my hand, careful not to scratch me with her long pink nails. “Mimi Boheme.”

Wow. I wasn't sure if I kept the look off my face well enough. “Wow.”

She preened a bit at my reaction. “Thank you. I picked it myself. For a while there I went by Zsa Zsa LaHore, but I decided to be a little classier, you know? You heard of me, baby girl? I perform on Wednesdays and Fridays at the Rabbit's Tutu, and sometimes Sunday for brunch.”

I shook my head. “I only just got to America a few days ago-”

“Look at you, already workin'. Good for you, baby, you make it work. You might want to get some new clothes, though, that look might have been workin' for you when you were sixteen, but you're a grown-up now. Ain't nobody gonna take you seriously in that unicorn shirt.”

“I tried black leather once,” I said, “but it didn't work.”

“Maybe you ought to get a pantsuit or something, you know like a workin' lady – a real workin' lady I mean, not like them crazy-ass hoes out on the street-”

“Can we go on to Tanny Jack now?” I interrupted. I was starting to feel like she might never stop talking. It was a bit like being run over by a sequin-encrusted steam engine. “It's just that I'm in a bit of a hurry, you know.”

Mimi gave me a sideways look. “Calm yo tits, girl. I'll take you there and we'll see what he says.”

Mimi was chattering nonstop as we went outside, mostly about what she thought I ought to be wearing and how I wasn't wearing enough makeup, but she took me by the arm in a surprisingly strong grip and Disapparated with a great deal of flair. Her hair flew in an arc as she pirouetted over her left shoulder.

Tanny Jack the bookie apparently worked in a small stall on a street full of nearly identical tiny shops, all selling cheap merchandise with _New York_ printed on them. Mimi pushed her way through the crowd on the pavement, and I followed in her wake. There weren't many customers in the shop, and behind a small counter at the back was a wiry little man with greying brown hair and nervous eyes. He looked even more nervous at the sight of Mimi storming into the shop.

“Hey Mimi,” he said with false cheer. “You want to put a couple eights down on the game? New Jersey versus Pittsburgh. You can put a Troy on whether the mascots eat each other. You know those Jersey devils are vicious-”

“Yeah Imma get with you about that later,” Mimi said imperiously. “We're on a mission right now though. You heard anything about any kidnappings? Some little girl been kidnapped.”

Tanny Jack looked shifty. I wasn't new at this, I knew exactly what that look meant. My heart skipped a beat. He knew something.

“Show him the picture, baby girl,” Mimi commanded me. I handed the picture to the bookie and he gave it a bare glance.

“I don't know nothin'.”

“Pants on fire,” said Mimi.

Tanny Jack's eyes darted to a panel visible in the wall behind me. Escape hatch, I was betting. “C'mon, Mimi, you know you never admit you know nothin', you live longer.”

“Please, mister – um – Tanny Jack-” people in New York had such weird names, honestly, “Just tell us what you know. I can tell you know something.”

He looked me up and down. “What are you, some kind of cop or what?”

“I'm a bounty hunter,” I admitted.

He groaned loudly. “Mimi, look who you're bringin' into my shop! I can't believe this, what the hell...”

“You tell us about this baby right now,” Mimi demanded, pointing at the photo with one fluorescent fingernail.

“Nothin' doin',” said Tanny Jack mulishly. “I ain't gettin' involved.”

“Hold my earrings,” Mimi said to me, slipping the enormous rhinestone-encrusted hoops out of her ears.

Tanny Jack seemed to realize belatedly what she was doing, but it was too late to run. All he could do was squawk as she grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him over the counter. He landed on the floor in a heap, lying on his stomach, and Mimi put her foot on his neck. The stiletto heel was jammed against his shoulder, her foot was so big. He was struggling, which I sort of thought was brave to the point of stupidity. Or maybe stupid to the point of bravery.

This was way better than going on surveillance with Victoire, I reflected as I watched Mimi grind her sparkly heel into the back of his neck.

“What the hell's wrong with you?” she was saying. “Why you gotta act like you got no sense? You see me askin' you something, I expect you to answer me, bitch.”

“Dammit, Mimi-”

“You better not make me mess up these shoes, either. They cost me fifty Lions in Chinatown. I like these shoes. I don't want to have to put my foot on your neck to make you behave. Answer the question now.”

“I already told you, I ain't gettin' involved!”

“It's a _baby_ , you jackass,” Mimi told him. Her foot seemed to slide a little further into his neck. “She's only like eight years old. We're doing a goddamn _civic duty_ , okay? If you know who took this baby, you tell me right now or I'll put my foot _through_ your skinny little neck!”

“All right, all right!” Tanny Jack yelled. He quit squirming. “Fine, have it your way. It's Kid Shaw, okay?”

I couldn't tell from the look on Mimi's face whether this was good news or not. She seemed to recognize the name, though.

“Kid Shaw took this little girl?”

“Swear to God,” he said, slurring the words into one syllable.

“So where is he?”

“Christ,” said the bookie, pulling a face at her. “You got to calm down, Mimi. Take your pills, okay? Let me up, I'll tell you where he is.”

Mimi didn't move. “You better not be playin' with my emotions, Jackie.”

“I swear to God. He made a payment last week – late – from a new address. I sent Vinnie Mallet out to check it out and he said Kid had a little girl with him, all locked up. We thought it was weird but he's making payments again, so what he does is his business.”

“Imma let you up now,” Mimi said magnanimously, and Tanny Jack got up, rubbing his neck.

“You really need to chill the hell out, you know that?” he said. Mimi made as if to move toward him again, and the bookie danced backward, hands held up defensively. “Okay, okay! Look, he's out in Tottenville, all right? Over near the boat fuelling place. Go get him, I don't care. Just don't kill him, cause he still owes me money and I need to get paid.”

“Tottenville?” Mimi looked distinctly annoyed, her bright pink lips pulled back in derision. “Goddamn Staten Island. That's okay, we'll Apparate.”

Tanny Jack seemed diverted by this. “You got your license back finally?”

“No. I do what I want.”

If I were six and a half feet tall barefoot and ran around in size twelve stiletto heels, I'd do what I wanted too.

Tanny Jack closed the iron gate behind us as we left his shop, muttering under his breath. I stopped Mimi as we returned to the Apparition point we'd come from, around the corner in an alley.

“You don't have to come with me,” I told her. “You've been loads of help. But this is probably going to be dangerous, and you don't have to come along, you know.”

She looped her arm through mine. This was a bit awkward, since she was a foot and a half taller than me. “Girl, shut up. You don't even know where Staten Island is, do you?”

“No,” I admitted. “But I could figure out how to get there.”

“I'll come with you. It's not even a thing,” she assured me. Her eyes were gleaming. I realized she was enjoying herself, and grinned up at her.

“You ever think about being a bounty hunter, Mimi?”

She laughed. “I'm a _artiste_ , baby girl. I just don't mind throwing some half-assed straight men around sometimes.”

*

Staten Island turned out to be south of Manhattan. Tottenville was at the bottom of the island, and I could see the shiny black tower of Montain out in the bay.

Mimi shivered when she saw it. “That place scares the crap outta me. You know they keep a Vipertooth in there for the high-security cells? Lookin' at a dragon all day would make me think twice about breakin' out.”

No kidding. We moved on, over to the address Tanny Jack had given us. It was a small house with two of the windows boarded shut, and dingy grey aluminium siding. The landscaping was non-existent. Apparently even American criminals didn't take care of their property. The air smelled like sulphur and diesel fuel, and I could see a large warehouse and some docks two blocks over. It was a hell of a place to be held against your will, especially for a little girl.

Mimi and I stood across the street, trying to look surreptitiously at the house while not looking like we were staring at it.

“How are we going to do this?” she asked. “You got your wand ready? You know some good spells for this?”

Probably not. “Sure,” I said, patting my pocket. My wand was stowed safely there. I didn't want to pull it out until the last minute, since Muggles could be watching. The street looked pretty deserted, but you never knew. The last thing I wanted was to get in trouble in a foreign country where my dad, mum, or uncle couldn't bail me out of trouble.

“Usually I just go up and tell them they're in violation of their bond agreement and ask them to come with me, but since this isn't a skip, I'm not sure what to do,” I admitted.

“I say we just go up there and bust in the door. Take 'em by surprise, you know?”

“What do you know about Kid Shaw?”

Mimi curled her lip. “His daddy was Mickey Shaw, one of Charles Rocke's enforcers, and trained Kid up to do the same thing. He's a bully, and he's stupid. He ain't small, though. I could probably take him, I bet. Except I got my good heels on, so I might not want to break them.”

“I can fix them if you do,” I assured her, though this probably wasn't true. Scorpius could, though. The thought of introducing him to Mimi sort of made my brain melt.

“Well all right. Let's go bust down the door and grab that baby back.”

I was having second thoughts about this plan as we crossed the street, but I pulled my wand out and held it low, against my thigh, so it wouldn't be as noticeable. Mimi had taken her wand out, too. It had gold rings set into the blonde wood. It almost sparkled in the sunlight. It blended well with her dress, actually.

“Do we knock?” I whispered as we hopped the steps to the porch.

“I ain't knockin' for a two-bit lowlife like Kid Shaw. Even his boss thought he was no better than a babysitter if this is the job he's doing. He was a serious hood when Charles Rocke was out. Sad day for the old guard, I guess.” Mimi held her wand up and said loudly, “ _Bombarda!_ ”

The door blasted in, hanging off its hinges, which sort of surprised me, since criminals in the United Kingdom always seemed to have protective spells on their homes. We rushed through the ruined door, and I could hear someone cussing loudly, and next thing I knew a bright blue spell caught me in the shoulder and spun me round, my shoulder burning as if it were on fire.

I landed in an ungraceful heap against the wall, the wind knocked out of me, but Mimi was still up, and she charged the man, bowling him over so that his head whacked hard against the linoleum. He went limp, and Mimi knelt over him, straddling his hips, and gave him a good smack across the face.

“I told you I could take him,” she crowed at me over her shoulder. “Good job distracting him so he didn't get a chance to get me.”

“Yeah, no problem.” I staggered to my feet, my shoulder still aflame with pain. “Is that Kid Shaw, then?”

She looked at him critically. “Looks like him. He got less hair now than the last time I saw him, but I ain't surprised cause his daddy was all bald when he got shot dead by the Muggle police.”

Kid groaned a bit and Mimi hit him again, this time with both hands fisted together. I didn't think he'd be waking up again any time soon.

“We need to find this little girl and get the hell out of here,” Mimi said, getting to her feet and smoothing down her sequined dress.

“Yeah.” I tried to ignore the pain in my shoulder and focus on the house. “She's probably in the room that was boarded off.”

Mimi nodded. “Should be this way.” She headed for a hallway leading off the main room, and I followed her, still walking a bit unsteadily. My head was swimming, from the impact of the fall and from whatever spell he'd hit me with. I didn't know that one. My mother did something with blue flames, it was a bit of a trick of hers, but they didn't burn if you touched them. Not the same thing as this, then.

As soon as we opened the door to the boarded-up room, the anxiety gripping me eased. The little girl was sitting on a mattress on the floor, looking dirty and unkempt but unhurt. She scooted backward away from us, into the corner.

“Who are you?” she demanded, her voice high-pitched with fear.

I pulled out the photo her mother hand given me and crouched down. “I'm a friend of your mum's, Gee. She sent me to rescue you.”

This wasn't actually true, but it was the best way to get her to trust me quickly. Gee seemed a bit wary, but she came closer, and I could see her eyes sharpen. She wasn't as scared now.

“Is my mommy okay? Where's the bad man who was here?”

“I knocked his ass out, sugar,” Mimi said airily. “You don't need to worry about him any more.”

“We're going to take you home,” I told Gee gently. “Just come with us, okay?”

She looked around the room, and then she got up off the mattress, her little sneakers padding silently on the dirty carpeting. She pushed her hair out of her face and sniffed.

And then she screamed.

I whirled around, and Kid Shaw was leaning against the doorframe, his wand in one hand and the other pressing to his temple.

“Damn he's got a hard head!” Mimi exclaimed.

“Stupid bitches,” Kid growled, and waved his wand at us.

I ducked down just in time, pushing Gee's head down next to me, and Mimi jumped sideways. The spell splashed against the wall, and the sheetrock started to bubble and dissolve.

“Are you crazy?” Mimi shouted.

“You can't take that kid,” Kid shouted back. “How did you find us?”

“Shouldn'ta made a payment to your bookie,” Mimi said.

Kid's face screwed up. “If it ain't one person tryin' to kill me, it's another. I had to pay Tanny. Have you ever seen Vinnie Mallet? That mother ain't right.”

Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder quickly. We all froze, and I glanced toward the window. I couldn't see anything around the boards, but I could tell it was coming this way.

“Muggles,” Kid said in disgust. “Why did you have to be so goddamn noticeable sneaking in here?”

“Who's sneakin'? I busted in here,” Mimi bragged.

“Give me the girl and I'll let you go alive,” Kid told us.

Gee shrieked loudly. I pulled her behind me a bit further. “No, I'm taking her home. You better go before the Muggle policemen get here. This is going to be hard to explain.”

“Maybe I'll just kill them all.”

“They'll shoot you, you idiot,” said Mimi. “Don't you remember your daddy? You can't hex all of them.”

Kid scowled. “Maybe I could.”

“Yeah right.” Mimi rolled her eyes at him. “Let's get the hell out of here, okay?”

The sirens were much louder now. The Muggles would be here any second. Kid started cussing fluently, but he turned and ran. I grabbed Gee's hand and followed him, with Mimi close on our heels.

Kid jumped the back steps completely, landing on the ground and then turning quickly, disappearing with a crack. There was a Muggle policeman coming around the side of the house just in time to see Kid disappear, and his face went slack with shock. His gun was in his hand, and he turned it to us.

“ _Confundus!_ ” Mimi shouted, and the policeman's eyes unfocused. The hand holding the gun fell to his side.

“Wow, you're really good at that,” I said to Mimi.

“I've used that before a few times. Freakin' Muggle cops. Come on, let's get out of here.”

I held tight to Gee with one hand and Mimi with the other, and pulled them both along with me, Anita Spiker's building in Queens firmly in my mind.  
 


	8. The Word of the Day

We reappeared with a loud crack on the pavement outside Anita Spiker's building. A homeless man pushing a trolley stopped and stared at us. I wasn't sure if it was the fact we'd materialized out of thin air or because we looked so strange: Mimi in her sequins, me in my pink unicorn t-shirt (slightly singed at the sleeve thanks to that curse Kid Shaw had got me with), and unkempt little Gee who obviously hadn't been bathed in a week or two.

Mimi noticed him and waved him off. “You been drinkin' too much, you look like you're hallucinatin' now.”

He turned his trolley around and took off back the way he'd come, looking over his shoulder at us with wide eyes.

I led the way up to the flat. Gee pushed the door open when I was about to knock, and she ran inside. Anita Spiker had been sitting on the couch, but she leapt to her feet when she saw us, and Gee flung herself into her mother's arms.

“Ain't that sweet,” Mimi said smugly, nudging me.

I was just glad we'd all lived. To be honest, I was a little surprised we'd managed to rescue the kid in the first place. Things had gone swimmingly, except for the throbbing in my shoulder. I decided Mimi was a good luck charm, and began to congratulate myself on a job well done.

And then Anita, still holding her daughter closely, looked up at me. I took a step back without thinking about it. Her face was completely different now. The fear, the timidness were gone, and in its place was rage. I'd seen rage like that before. Normal people didn't have rage like that. Crazy people and criminals had rage like that.

Uh-oh.

“I can't believe you actually did it,” she said, and her voice wasn't anything like the voice she'd spoken to me in before. “You got her back.”

“Um, yeah.” I wasn't sure what was going on, but there was a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Anita's eyes were practically glowing now, ablaze with anger. She gave her daughter one last squeeze and sent her off to the bathroom to wash up. Gee left the room, still sniffling a bit.

Anita waited until she was out of earshot before pulling her wand. “Now I'm going to kill that bitch like I should have done when she first asked me to translate.”

“You what?” said Mimi. She seemed surprised. Guess she didn't recognize crazy when she saw it. Maybe her criminal experience wasn't as extensive as mine. Probably I should rethink my life.

“I'll hunt her down and disembowel her.” Anita rubbed her wand, and a little red spark shot out the end. “She thought she could keep me in line by taking Gee.”

I tried to shake off the bad feeling about this. She didn't seem to be angry with me – I'd rescued her daughter, after all, although I was starting to wish I'd never got involved – and the presence of Mimi at my side was undoubtedly enough to make anyone think twice. But it was the kind of rage where targets didn't matter as much as damage.

“I don't understand,” I said slowly. “I thought you said she threatened you? Forced you to cooperate? You were terrified.”

“I just played terrified in case they were watching,” Anita told me.

My jaw dropped. “But this morning-”

“They weren't watching any more. Meet is tonight. I would've had Gee back by bedtime anyway.”

“Then why didn't you stop me?” I asked in disbelief. “I could have been killed!”

Anita shrugged. “I figured it couldn't hurt to let you try, and it gets me Gee back early. And now I can tell Anastasia to take a long walk off a short bridge. Who knows. She might run into my knife.” And she let out a cackle.

I couldn't believe her. She would have gotten her daughter back by the end of the day anyway? No wonder the security had been so low on Gee – they were nearly done with her. What kind of person was Anita that even Ambrosia had felt she had to chain her up, so to speak, to keep her in line? Just what I needed: another psychopath.

Well, she wasn't a total psychopath, because at least she seemed to legitimately love her daughter.

Hang on though. “The meet is tonight, you said?”

Anita nodded carelessly. “It'll be a cold day in hell before I cooperate with that bitch. She's getting in bed with some of the worst of the worst. I know who she's meeting tonight and I don't want to be within a hundred yards of him.”

“Will you tell me where it is? What time are you supposed to meet?” Things with Anita hadn't gone as I'd expected them to – though the rescue had been a surprising success – but at least it might get me the information on Ambrosia's mysterious meeting.

“Pier 11, at seven o'clock.”

I was a little taken aback by how quickly she'd responded. “Erm. Okay. Why are you telling me?”

“Anything I can do to thwart that bitch Anastasia,” Anita gloated. “You're the sort to gum up anyone's works. I can tell. When I was in the Netherlands, there was a detective like you. Always getting in everyone's way.”

The Netherlands. That was where I recognized her accent from. “What happened to the detective?” I asked warily.

Anita's eyes went cold. “She killed Gee's father in a stand-off. I left pieces of her body at every police precinct in the city.”

Oh, holy Kneazles. I could feel the hair standing on end on my arms.

“Let's go,” Mimi said next to me, taking hold of my arm. I glanced over at her; she was watching Anita with a serious expression.

There was nothing else to do, really. I knew where and when the meeting was, and Anita had her daughter back. My shoulder was still killing me, the throbbing more noticeable now I wasn't focused on Anita and Gee.

“Yeah,” I agreed, and we turned to go.

“Rose,” said Anita.

I stopped at the doorway and looked back. Mimi still had a hand on my arm.

“Don't come back here again.”

Mimi and I didn't say a word to each other as we climbed down the stairs. When we reached the street, I leaned against the building and let out my breath.

“Damn girl,” said Mimi. “Where the hell do you find these people?”

“It's not my fault,” I said automatically.

“That bitch was _psycho_ ,” Mimi went on loudly. “I thought we were saving that baby! She played you, girl. That was the craziest thing I've ever seen.”

“Is everyone in New York mental?” I demanded wildly.

“Yes girl, are you new here?” Mimi rolled her eyes. “Come on, let's go back to the bar. I need a drank.”

She looped her arm through mine, and I tried to breathe more evenly as we walked back out to the rainy streets. “A drank?”

“I am way past a _drink_.”

*

“That was crazy, wasn't it?” Mimi tossed her shot of firewhiskey back with the ease of long practice. “I can't believe how crazy that was. We saved her baby and she didn't even say _thank you_.”

I was a little more concerned by the fact she'd threatened to kill someone in front of us, but a thank you wouldn't have gone amiss. “I know.”

“So crazy,” Mimi said again. It seemed to be the word of the day.

By the time we'd gotten a few drinks, and one of Mimi's friends at the bar had done a minor healing charm on my shoulder, I felt less stretched thin and was ready for the meeting. It was only an hour away at this point, and it occurred to me that I hadn't contacted Scorpius all day. What with one thing or another (one crazy and another?), it had slipped my mind.

“My boyfriend's probably worried about me,” I told Mimi.

She shrugged. “You didn't get hurt. Much, anyway.”

“I should Floo him, shouldn't I?” I gestured with my shot glass at the fireplace. “It's the polite thing to do. He's probably worried. And pissed. And worried.”

“Is he going to tell you not to go to this meeting?” Mimi asked, knocking back another shot. I wasn't sure how many she'd had now; I'd stopped counting at six. Her capacity for firewhiskey was incredible.

“Probably, yeah.”

“Are you going to go anyway?”

“Yeah.”

“Screw it. Might as well wait til after the meet, right? If you're going to have to fight with your boyfriend, I always say put it off until after you did what you wanted.” Mimi waved to the bartender for a refill.

“True. Yeah.” I took a long sip of my drink. The firewhiskey was giving me courage. I could feel the warmth spreading through my body. Mimi had a point, right? I was going to have to fight with Scorpius over this meeting no matter what, so there was no point doing it now. Might as well have the fight after I'd gone and seen what Ambrosia was up to.

Mimi was smart, really.

Mimi got up to dance, and I watched her with a grin. She moved like an experienced performer. Her sequined dress shone in the low lights of the bar.

As I watched her, the smile slipped from my face. She was very noticeable. If Mimi was anything, she was not unobtrusive. How the hell was I supposed to sneak into this meeting with a six and a half foot talk woman in a sparkly dress and giant hair? I wasn't even sure how I was going to do it solo. I knew I couldn't let Ambrosia see me, or she'd probably try to kill me on sight. She was already going to be pissed when her translator didn't show up.

I was going to have to ditch Mimi. That wasn't going to make her happy. But she was pretty distracted right now with dancing, maybe she wouldn't notice the time. Besides, bringing her along would endanger her. Ambrosia was mental. I didn't want my new friend getting killed over me. It was bad enough I'd let her come along to rescue Gee, although to be honest she'd come off better than I had in that. I was the one who'd got hurt. Still, I wasn't going to bring her to the meet, for both our sakes.

Nothing today had gone according to plan. If spying on Ambrosia's meeting didn't go according to plan either, I didn't want anything to happen to Mimi. She had been helpful, yeah, and held her own well enough, but we hadn't been able to cast a Memory Charm on anyone who'd been part of the kidnapping. I'd thought I'd be able to get the kidnapper with one, but Kid Shaw was free and in full possession of his memory. That wasn't good, but hopefully he wouldn't go straight to Ambrosia and tell her everything. I glanced down at my pink unicorn shirt. All he had to do was describe my clothes and she'd know exactly who had got Gee out of there. All the horrible possibilities spun through my head, and I knocked back another shot to tamp them out. I definitely had to go alone tonight.

At a few minutes to seven, I slipped quietly out the back door of the bar, where the dark alley made a perfect unobtrusive Apparition point. I hoped the name was enough, since I'd always been able to Apparate that way in London, and fixed Pier 11 firmly in my mind.

I reappeared outside the docks, the rank smell of the Hudson River filling my nose. The sun had nearly set, and everything was bathed in a thick golden light. It would have matched Mimi's dress perfectly. I took in my surroundings quickly: large crates, metal containers, cranes and assorted Muggle equipment I didn't recognize. I took a moment to Disillusion myself (I'm not terribly good at that spell, but when my cousin Victoire isn't around to do it for me, I have to make do) and slipped behind a row of stacked wooden crates. I made my way further down the pier, walking in silence.

I began to hear voices when I got closer to the end of the pier, and slowed my steps. I crept closer to the stacked crates, ducking down. They were only stacked one high here and didn't give me much cover. Carefully I glanced over the top of the last one. At first I only saw a few large men in Muggle suits or leather jackets, many wearing caps low on their foreheads. Then one of them budged aside and there was Ambrosia, in a tailored black pantsuit and pinstriped shirt, her blonde hair swirled up into an elegant knot. She looked very professional. If I didn't know she was a criminal, I'd have thought her an executive at a large financial company. I ducked back down behind the crate then, crouching with my back against it, and listened.

There was an air of distrust about the voices, as if something were about to go wrong. And then I heard the goon closest to my crate mutter, "She shoulda been here by now."

They were only just realizing that Anita Spiker wasn't going to turn up. That meant Kid Shaw hadn't gone to Ambrosia yet, so she didn't know I'd been involved. A bit of the tension left me, but Anita's desertion wasn't going to go well with this group. Ambrosia was good at keeping an impassive face, but she was bound to be angry by now. I glanced at my watch; it was just after seven.

I could hear more muttering about the missing translator, then Ambrosia's voice with the ring of authority, "It's too late to do anything about it now."

The buzzing of a motor was growing louder, and I looked out to the water and saw a run-down old tugboat approaching at speed, leaving a faint trail of purple through the water. Ambrosia's goons were standing more at attention now, watching the boat as it pulled up alongside the dock. Two of them were still scanning the perimeter, so I mentally assigned them to the Security Detail Goon category. The other seven all appeared to fall under General Henchmen. I realized then, my stomach dropping a bit, that someone was missing.

Where was Heckie Shanahan? He should have been here by now. I was getting a bad feeling about his absence. He might have gone and turned himself in to MLE custody, I told myself, hoping it was true.

If he wasn't with the MLEs or the Aurors, I hoped he'd gotten away. If he wasn't where he was supposed to be with Ambrosia...

Before I could let myself flesh out that horrible thought, the boat had pulled up to the dock and two of the General Henchmen goons trotted down to tie it up. They were obviously experienced at it. I wondered how often Ambrosia used the docks as a drop point for whatever she was doing. The tugboat seemed to be tethered securely, and a couple of new goons stepped off. I could just see a few more staying on board, on the deck. They seemed to be on watch. Security Detail again, I guessed.

A man stepped off onto the dock then, better dressed than his goons. His black hair was cut in a way that I knew was expensive, and his suit probably cost more than I make in a year. I recognized him immediately as a real bad guy, not merely a henchman. I normally only saw real bad guys in photos that my dad and uncle – or Dino Agnelli, the real bounty hunter on staff at Agnelli's Magical Bonds – had of their bad guys. My bad guys barely qualified as henchmen. They henched part-time, on weekends. It was pretty rare for me to be around real bad guys.

But I knew them when I saw them. And this man was a Bad Guy.

Ambrosia stepped forward and offered the Bad Guy her hand. He shook it warily, still flanked by two of his Security Detail goons. He said something in a language I didn't recognize. It sounded Russian to me, but I'm not up on my Eastern European linguistics, so it could've been anything really.

One of the goons rumbled in a thick accent, “Where is translator?”

“She was unable to make it,” Ambrosia said smoothly. Her voice and face didn't betray any emotion. Damn, she was good, I thought grudgingly.

Bad Guy said something else, and I distinctly heard _Shanahan_. Now the Security Detail goons were looking around with the unhappy look that law enforcement and security people get when things that should be tightly scheduled go off-course. One of them drew his wand.

One of Ambrosia's goons drew his as well, but she held up a hand quellingly.

“We can still do business,” she said. “This doesn't have to prevent us both from getting what we want.”

Bad Guy asked distinctly then, in even more heavily accented English than his goon, “Where Shanahan?”

Something flickered in Ambrosia's face, and Bad Guy must have recognized it, because he drew his wand as well. Suddenly everyone else had their wands out too.

Oh, holy Kneazles. They were all going to kill each other and I was going to be stuck in the crossfire. This was so not good. If I got killed because of Ambrosia, Scorpius was going to kill me. And then my parents would kill me too. I wondered if I could sneak away without being seen.

And then a green light splashed against the crate beside me, and I knew it was too late.

The fight seemed to break out instantly, and spells were everywhere. The air buzzed and crackled with hexes and curses, and I huddled behind the crate and hoped it would be over soon. I could hear them all yelling, and the occasional sound of flesh hitting flesh. Even wizards resort to Muggle brawling when things get really hairy.

I had no idea how long it had gone on – it felt like hours – when suddenly the crate I was hiding behind disintegrated. I scrambled sideways automatically, behind the next row, but as I moved, I caught Ambrosia's eyes through the duelling wizards, and a cold shiver went down my spine as her eyes followed me.

I wasn't invisible enough.

Hiding behind the crates, I tried to calm my racing heart, and drew my wand. She was bound to come over here, or someone else would, one of the goons. I was about to Disapparate when I heard the distinct crack of someone doing exactly that. Several more followed, and the sounds of battle tapered off. I risked a peek around the side of the crate and saw one of Ambrosia's goons turn over his shoulder and disappear.

Why were they all suddenly leaving?

Footsteps thudded down the wooden pier, and I realized the American MLEs were here. For a moment I was relieved, and then I remembered that they didn't know me and I should probably get the hell out of there. I inched backward, still crouched down, and moved to Disapparate, but someone grabbed my arm and cold metal touch my wrist.

“Don't bother to fight back,” a voice growled from behind me. “You have the right to remain silent...”


	9. Interrogated

I had never been arrested before. It would have been a new experience in England, but it was definitely not something I'd ever thought would happen to me in America.

It was a lot scarier than I would have guessed.

They brought me to the Auror Department – the same building I'd been to when I tried to report Ambrosia's presence in New York and been laughed at – and stuck me in a small room with a large plate-glass window in one wall, and a table with a couple of chairs around it.

My wand was confiscated on my arrest, so now I was sitting in the chair across from a pair of Aurors in cheap Muggle suits, totally helpless and more scared than I'd ever been. Well, except maybe that one time when serial killers had kidnapped me and tried to kill me.

But this was different. I wasn't used to dealing with law enforcement without the comforting knowledge that my parents and my uncle could get me out of any sticky situations that might arise.

That wasn't an option here. No one knew my dad, no one knew my mum. I wasn't even sure if they knew who Uncle Harry was. Was Harry Potter famous across the pond?

“You know my uncle is Harry Potter, right?” I asked hopefully. I reckoned it was worth a shot.

The Auror sitting across from me gave me a look over the rims of his glasses. He was balding, and had a bit of a pot-belly. He was like a more unpleasant version of my uncle Percy. Only short.

The other Auror was leaning against the edge of the mirror. He was much younger and looked far less unpleasant than his partner. He was probably pretty new at this. He had _rookie_ written all over him, if I was any judge. And I'd known a lot of MLEs and Aurors, so my judgement was probably pretty good, at least with this.

“We know,” said the rookie mildly.

The bald Auror blinked slowly, as if he were restraining the urge to tell his partner to shut up, and removed his glasses, smoothing down the mouse-brown sideburns that were nearly all that was left of his hair. “Ma'am, it doesn't matter who your family is. We're only interested in your activities.”

“I wasn't doing anything,” I assured him.

“You were apprehended at the scene of the crime. Five dead bodies, and evidence of Dark magic all over the place-”

“That wasn't my fault.” This was actually true this time. “I was only watching to see what Ambrosia was doing. I tried to tell you people that she was here and she was up to no good, but you wouldn't listen.”

“You tried to notify the Auror Department?” asked the rookie.

“Yes. I spoke to Reuben Jessup.” I was amazed I could remember his name, actually. Panic must be sharpening my memory. I really didn't want to go to prison. “I told him about my run-ins with Ambrosia in the past and that I'd seen her here in New York. He came by my hotel room the next day when Noah Ellery's body was found.”

The rookie's expression changed. I could see the uncertainty in his eyes. “Bleach, maybe we should-”

“Shut up, Zawicki,” said the bald Auror.

“Did you test my wand? The last spell I performed was a Disillusionment Charm, go on.” I waved my hand to invite them to it.

The bald Auror, Bleach, still had an impassive look. I'd been around enough Aurors to know this particular impassive look meant my wand's evidence was meaningless to him. “Your wand was tested. You could have cast the Disillusionment Charm to try to escape capture before you left. _Priori Incantatem_ is only useful to show the last spell cast. It's not admissible in court as evidence for defense.”

Crap. My stomach dropped. I was sure that spell worked on more than the very last spell a wand had cast. “Look, call Jessup. I told him all about Ambrosia, I swear. I didn't have anything to do with what happened there. I'm only a witness, honestly!”

Zawicki the rookie turned to his partner and muttered, barely even moving his lips, “I think we should call Jessup.”

“I don't need Jessup to tell me how to handle my cases,” Bleach snapped. “I know a perp when I see one.”

“Look, just call in Jessup,” I said, trying to keep the hint of desperation out of my voice. Jessup was bound to tell him that I'd tried to turn Ambrosia in. I pushed aside the memory of his bad attitude when he'd come to my hotel room to talk. “He'll tell you. Why would I go to him about Ambrosia if I were working with her?”

“Maybe you're a rival, trying to stir things up for your own gain,” said Bleach.

I had never actually thrown up my hands in disgust before, but I nearly did. I wanted to throw _something_ up.

Zawicki looked more uncertain than ever. Obviously he hadn't yet learned how to keep a blank Auror face. He gave a small cough. “Maybe we should-”

“Out,” barked Bleach. “I'll finish the interrogation myself.”

Zawicki left, closing the door rather sharply behind him. He had to be very new at this, I reflected, because Dad would never let an underling get away with this sort of behaviour. It was a shame I wasn't dealing with Dad's Aurors. Of course, if I was dealing with Dad's Aurors, I wouldn't be in an interrogation room right now.

Bleach turned his full attention back to me. “Give me one good reason I shouldn't lock you up right now.”

“Because I didn't do it,” I blurted out.

He stared at me for a long while, then he said, “I have enough evidence to hold you.”

“I was only there watching. I didn't do anything.” My stomach felt like a block of ice inside me. The hope that I'd talk my way out of this after all was looking pretty dim.

“Let's start over,” Bleach told me with insufferable calm. “Tell me everything that happened.”

I wanted to scream in frustration. “I already told you twice. Nothing is going to change about what I've said, so there's not much point repeating it. Again.”

“Fine. I'll just let you have some time to rethink your unwillingness to cooperate.”

“I did cooperate,” I pointed out sharply as he got to his feet. “Twice.”

Bleach's jaw twitched, but he didn't say anything. He yanked the door open, and there was Zawicki, one hand outstretched toward the door knob and a startled look on his face. Behind him I recognized Reuben Jessup and his partner. Hitchcock, I think his name was.

“Agent Bleach,” said Hitchcock. He had an impressively blank Auror face, even though he didn't look much older than Zawicki.

“Hitchcock,” Bleach answered tightly.

“Hatchcock. A word, please?” He gestured toward the corridor and then gave me a reassuring smile over Bleach's head. Some of the ice in my stomach thawed. Maybe I wouldn't go to prison after all.

They closed the door behind them, and I couldn't hear a thing. I rubbed my temples while I waited; I was getting a throbbing headache. I was not cut out to be on the wrong side of the law, clearly. I had a sudden burst of sympathy for all my bonds who'd skipped out on their court dates. No wonder they didn't want to go.

After what felt like half an hour, the door opened. Zawicki was gone, but the other three came inside the interrogation room and took up positions across from me. Jessup sat down at the table, while Hatchcock and Bleach stood next to the mirror.

“Let's go over this from the beginning,” began Jessup, lacing his fingers together, his hands on the table.

“I already gave him the long version twice,” I told him, pointing at Bleach. “I told you Ambrosia was in town, you didn't want to listen about her, she killed Noah Ellery, I did some poking around and found out where she was tonight, so I followed her to see what she's up to. Then you people arrested me, even though I didn't do anything.”

Jessup's hard face didn't twitch. “You had prior knowledge of the murder-”

“No, I just knew she was a bad guy-”

“-and then you were found at the scene of a multiple homicide. I don't need to tell you what this looks like.”

I stared at him, flabbergasted. Sure, Jessup hadn't been friendly when he'd come by my hotel, but I hadn't expected this. He seemed convinced that I was involved. Suddenly his questions at the hotel made a lot more sense. Scorpius had been right not to like them, too. I shook my head at Jessup. “I didn't do anything. I'm only a witness.”

“How did you know where to find Ambrosia Heggs?” Hatchcock asked suddenly.

I wasn't sure I should tell them about Anita and the entire situation with her, but Heckie was already in trouble with the law and might even have turned state's evidence by now. “I spoke with Heckie Shanahan, and he told me a bit about Ambrosia's activities in New York. She's going by Anastasia Leatherby here. Heckie was scared of her.”

“Heckie Shanahan was found dead in his apartment,” said Hatchcock.

My mouth fell open. “ _What?_ ”

“Mr. Shanahan's body was discovered yesterday when a neighbour complained about the smell.”

“Oh, holy Kneazles.” I couldn't believe it. I'd only just talked to him, and now he was dead. I hoped it wasn't because of me. Poor Heckie. I wasn't sure they'd answer my next question, but I had to ask. “How did he die?”

“Murdered,” Bleach said shortly.

Hatchcock was watching me closely. “Acute trauma. Blunt object.”

I closed my eyes briefly. Blunt object. I knew what that meant. Ambrosia and her bloody shovel. I had gotten Heckie Shanahan killed. I felt a little sick to my stomach. It really _was_ my fault. If I could have done the last few days over, I would have avoided that stupid street where we'd bumped into Ambrosia. Heckie would probably still be alive. Gee Spiker would have been returned to her mother by now, they were never going to keep her, and Anita was now a loose cannon with nothing to hold her back. Even those goons that had been killed at the docks, that had happened because Anita and Heckie hadn't shown up when they were supposed to. And that was my fault, too.

I put my face down, my eyes on the heels of my hands, and blew my breath out sharply. My entire body felt hot. I had gotten half a dozen people killed by getting involved, people who probably would be alive right now if I had simply let it go the way Scorpius had wanted.

I hadn't made any difference at all. I'd thought I was helping, but I hadn't done any good. I'd only got people killed.

“Ma'am,” said Jessup. His voice was dispassionate. It felt like fingernails on a chalkboard to my nerves.

But I knew better than to yell at an Auror when I was probably or very nearly under arrest. I looked up at them, trying to steady my voice. “Just... just give me a minute, please?”

Hatchcock nodded his head toward the door, and Jessup rose, hitching up the trousers of his cheap suit as he went to the door. Bleach followed them, arms crossed over his chest.

For a moment I only sat there, trying to stop picturing the bodies, and then I realized the Aurors were whispering to each other. I tried to breathe as quietly as possible so I could hear them.

“... she was right there and-”

I recognized Hatchcock's voice next. “Don't you know who her parents are? You're going to create a goddamn international incident by arresting her.”

“She was found at the scene, standing over half a dozen dead bodies!” Jessup hissed. “And we know she had contact with Shanahan right before his death, we have reports-”

“Circumstantial evidence. You know any good lawyer can get out of that. And you saw her reaction when I told her his body had been found. She didn't know.”

“So she's a good liar. She's turning up connected to all kinds of crime in this city. My gut says she's guilty. She knows more than she's saying. She doesn't have diplomatic immunity, no matter who her parents are.”

“So have her deported.” Bleach's voice now. “Let the Brits deal with her. It'll put a stop to whatever she's up to here, and avoids an incident if her famous parents raise a stink.”

Jessup's voice was hard when he answered. “If she did the crime in the US, she ought to do her time here too.”

Oh holy Kneazles. They thought I was a murderer. My stomach clenched with fear. _Any good lawyer_ , Hatchcock had said. I needed a lawyer, but I didn't know any in New York. I knew exactly what I needed to do.

“I'm entitled to a Floo call, aren't I?” I said loudly.

They all looked over at me. Jessup and Bleach didn't look happy, but Hatchcock's face was carefully impassive.

“Yes, you are,” said Bleach, disgruntled.

“International Floo call?” I added. If they wouldn't let me do that, I could always Floo Scorpius and ask him to do it. He was a local Floo.

“Not normally, no. But since you're a British citizen, I suppose we can make an exception,” Hatchcock told me. I had a feeling he knew who I had in mind to call.

It took them a little while to arrange a fireplace for me – I guessed it really was an exception – and my hands were once again cuffed behind my back when I stuck my head in the fire. It was wildly uncomfortable.

“Hermione Weasley's office!”

Mum's office spun into view a moment later. She was sitting at her desk, her reading glasses perched on the tip of her nose, and looked up in surprise.

“Rose, I didn't expect to hear from you while you're on holiday-”

“Mum,” I interrupted. I didn't have time for this. I'd only got about two minutes on the international Floo call, they'd told me. “I need you to come to the Manhattan Department of Magic's Auror office and help me. They've arrested me-”

“ _What?_ ” Mum interrupted, apparently unable to hold it in. “Rose, did you blow something up?”

“It wasn't my fault! I'm being framed, I swear. But I need a lawyer, they think I was involved in a multiple homicide and-”

“I'm on my way.” Mum was already on her feet, shoving papers into her handbag. “Don't say a word to anyone until I get there, Rose. I'm going straight to a Portkey now.”

“Time's up,” said a voice behind me, and a strong hand on my shoulder pulled me out of the fire. Mum's office disappeared, and I coughed on the ashes as I straightened up.

Jessup looked even less happy now than he had before. “You called your mother?”

“She's my lawyer,” I told him. “And I'm not speaking to anyone until she gets here.”

“Oh great,” said Bleach. “Just what I need, more British wizards making trouble.”

*

They left me sitting in the cell for hours. There was no clock, and I didn't have my wand. Nothing to look at, nothing to distract me from feeling guilty.

Scorpius didn't know where I was. I hadn't contacted him to tell him what I was doing. The warm whiskey feeling had given me courage at the time, thinking he'd be fine and I'd be home before he got too angry. The whiskey had faded a long time ago now, and left me feeling a little sick. I should have told him where I was going, just in case. He was going to kill me when I got back.

Mum was going to kill me when she got here, too. I'd never been arrested before, and while I knew she would help out, I also knew I was never going to hear the end of this.

I tried to stop myself from thinking of Heckie Shanahan turning up dead, because it made me feel sick to my stomach, but it kept coming back to me. It was hard not to think of him when there was nothing to distract me from my own thoughts. Poor Heckie. I wondered if he would have been killed whether I had gone over there or not. Ambrosia knew I was here, and now she knew I was following her. She had definitely seen me at the docks last night. But Heckie had been killed before then, if they'd found him yesterday. Had she found out I was trying to track her, or had she killed him for another reason?

Maybe it hadn't been my fault, I told myself lamely. Heckie had already been afraid for his life before I got there. Maybe he'd gone to a lawyer to roll on Ambrosia and she'd found out and killed him. I didn't know, and it seemed unlikely the Aurors would tell me any further details about Heckie's murder. Maybe when Mum showed up, she'd get it out of them for me.

It had to be almost morning. Mum would've had to find an international Portkey, and there weren't a lot of them in the middle of the night, so it would take her a bit to get here. I tried to calm down and wait patiently.

I had never been good at being patient.

After what felt like forever, and just as I was worrying that I'd been there so long that Ramses had probably received his Hogwarts letter by now, the door swung open and Bleach, looking quite annoyed, told me, “Your lawyer is here.”

He held the door open a bit wider, and past him swept my mother, her chin held high. I nearly sagged with relief at seeing her, especially since that familiar warpath look on her face wasn't directed at me. She looked filled with righteous anger and ready to do battle. Normally that wasn't hugely comforting to me, but today it was. As I got to my feet though, I saw someone else right behind her.

“Let me guess,” Dad said, smiling at me. “It wasn't your fault?”


	10. Family Back-Up

It was daylight when we left the Auror building. I'd been in the interrogation room all night. Mum took us all straight back to the hotel, and stopped at the front desk to get a room for herself and Dad.

“Is the room next to yours empty?” she asked me, then without waiting for an answer, she informed the desk clerk, “We'll take the room next to my daughter's.”

Luckily for the desk clerk, the rooms on both sides of ours were empty, and my parents were duly checked into one. Mum took the key rather imperiously. I reckoned she was still full of righteous anger at her daughter being arrested (probably not at me specifically, but you never know). Dad and I followed her upstairs to the room next door to mine. Mum went in to inspect their room, and Dad hung back at the door while I went in mine.

Scorpius was sitting on the bed, watching Ramses play on the floor. He jumped to his feet when he saw me, and dashed over to seize me in a tight hold.

“You're all right! My God, Rose, when I heard you'd been arrested-”

I glanced at Dad, who shook his head. “How did you hear I'd been arrested?” I asked Scorpius.

“Your sparkly new friend came by and said she'd followed you to the pier but by the time she got there the MLEs were taking you away in handcuffs. Rose, what the hell happened? Getting arrested's a new one even for you. I was worried sick all night. I couldn't sleep for it.” Scorpius appeared to finally register the presence of my father behind me. “Oh, erm. Hi, Mr. Weasley.”

“Hi Scorpius.”

The sound of Dad's voice brought a loud screech of delight from Ramses, who had failed to notice his mummy come home. He started crawling at top speed toward the door and nearly crashed into Dad's legs. Dad scooped him up just in time and tossed him lightly into the air.

“There's my boy! Granddad missed you. Have you been a good boy? Yes you have. Yes you have.” And Dad blew a raspberry against Ramses's round little cheek.

Ramses laughed maniacally and grabbed a hunk of Dad's hair in each fist.

I could see my son had not missed _me_. Or he might have done, but the presence of his favourite person in the world had made him forget me completely. That often happened. When Dad was around, Ramses had eyes for no one else. Even Johnny Lupin took a backseat to Dad.

Dad pulled a sweet out of his pocket and unwrapped it for Ramses. Ramses released Dad's hair to clutch at the piece of chocolate.

“He just had a bath last night,” murmured Scorpius as Mum appeared in the doorway behind Dad.

“He'll have to have another one soon. Ron, it's six o'clock in the morning and you're giving him sweets?” Mum gazed at him ruefully.

“I'm his granddad. I'm supposed to give him things Mum and Dad won't let him have. 'S my job.” Dad tucked Ramses against him, and from another pocket pulled out a small toy flower.

Ramses reached one chocolate-smeared fist (it was now all over his face as well) and grabbed for the flower. Dad helped him blow on the flower until it blew a stream of pink and yellow bubbles. Ramses shrieked with joy.

“Ma ma ma ma ma...”

I smiled at them both. It felt almost surreal to be here watching Dad play with my baby after spending the night in lockup with the Aurors. I was glad to be shot of them, at least for now. They still thought I'd done it, or at least Jessup and Bleach did, but apparently now I had a lawyer, they didn't really have enough evidence to officially keep me in custody. Mum was amazing.

Mum was presently watching Ramses attempt to blow on the flower. Bits of chocolate mixed with his spittle. Blowing without spitting was not Ramses's forte. He was still little though. He was bound to figure it out eventually. He blew a glob of chocolate spit at Dad's chin and laughed. Dad grinned and wiped it off with his sleeve. Mum shook her head.

“I need to grab a few hours of sleep,” Scorpius said then.

“We'll take this little man with us,” Dad assured him, patting Ramses on the back. “You get some rest. Rose, come with us, we need to talk.”

“I haven't had any sleep either,” I pointed out as I followed them to the room next door. I glanced over my shoulder to see Scorpius already climbing into bed behind us. It wasn't bloody fair. I wanted a nap.

“You shouldn't have got arrested then,” Mum told me pitilessly. “We need to deal with this as soon as possible, and that means I need information. Then you can sleep.”

I flopped down onto the bed. Dad set Ramses down on the floor with the toy flower to keep him busy and sat down next to him, leaning his back against the wall. Mum set her handbag on the table, where it made a very loud thump. I eyed it warily. Mum was notorious for having unexpected Undetectable Extension Charms on things, and from what I could tell, she didn't have any other baggage with her. The handbag was bound to be tricky.

Sure enough, she reached in almost to her shoulder and rooted around in the bag. After a brief search, she pulled out a notepad and a quill, and then her reading glasses. She slid the glasses on and then opened the notepad, the quill poised in her hand.

“So,” she said. “Tell me everything, from the beginning.”

This took longer than I would have thought, partly because I wasn't used to actually telling my parents everything when they asked me to do so. Normally there were at least a few activities of questionable legality that I had to either gloss over or talk around, but this time I hadn't done anything illegal. Not that I knew of, anyway. Slightly questionable, yes, but not actually illegal. And I actually did want to tell them everything, since Mum might need to mount a legal defense for me and Dad might have some good ideas on the case.

Dad was quiet as I told them about bumping into Ambrosia, and my visits to Judge Ellery and Heckie Shanahan. He grinned a bit when I described meeting Mimi, but grew serious again when I started into the rescue of Georgia Spiker.

“Blimey, Rose,” he interrupted just when I'd got to the good bits. “You could've been killed.”

“But I wasn't,” I pointed out. “I'm fine.”

Mum was still scribbling away in her notepad without looking up, as she had been the entire time I'd been talking. She commented almost absently, “She's your daughter.”

Dad rolled his eyes and motioned me to finish talking.

I tried to pick up where I'd left off. “Well, when we brought Gee back to her mother, Anita completely changed. She wasn't all scared and timid any more, she went completely psycho. She told me she was going to kill Ambrosia. She called her Anastasia again, I don't think she's using any other aliases. Not to her fellow criminals, anyway. So I asked her to tell me about the time and location for the meeting, and she did.”

“Just like that?” Dad said.

“I think her exact words were 'Anything to stick it to that bitch Anastasia'.”

“Rose!” Mum looked up reproachfully and nodded her head at Ramses. “Watch your language.”

I sighed. “Mum, he can't understand anything I'm saying. He's not even a year old. He won't pick up any swear words, honestly. It's not like that time Dad said 'effing hell' in front of Johnny Lupin.”

“I couldn't help myself,” said Dad. “He drives me to it.”

Mum rolled her eyes at him, and he stuck out his tongue. She ignored him and went back to her notepad. “So you went to the meeting?”

I nodded. “I hid behind the crates that were loaded all over the docks, and I had a pretty good view. Ambrosia was there with a pack of goons, and then this other bloke arrived. Wore an expensive suit, looked scary, didn't speak English.”

“If you had to guess?” Dad asked.

“Russian? Serbian maybe? I don't know. It had that sort of Eastern European sound to me. He had dark hair, he was tall, a bit good-looking. Whoever he was, Anita was supposed to be there to translate, so she must speak the language. She probably knows more about him, too,” I added, since it had only just occurred to me. I should have asked her more about the other half of this meeting, but I'd been so focused on catching Ambrosia that it hadn't occurred to me to be bothered about whom Ambrosia was doing business with. “But she didn't turn up to the meeting, which I knew she wouldn't since she'd told me she wanted to leave Ambrosia twisting in the wind. Heckie Shanahan should've been there as well, he'd put a lot of work into convincing them that his way of handling the money was best, and I don't think this bloke was fully on board because when he saw Heckie wasn't there, he went completely mental. He and his goons started hexing everyone.”

Mum was frowning now. “You should have gotten out of there as quickly as possible and left it to the local MLEs or Aurors.”

“I tried to leave it to them,” I told her testily. “But they didn't want to get involved. And I tried to get the hell out of there, too. They arrested me before I got away.”

“Let me guess, you spent too long waiting to see what happened and then it was too late to Disapparate.” Mum gave me a look. I shrugged at her and tried my trustworthy smile. It had never really worked on her, though. She frowned at me.

“What did you make of their business transaction?” Dad asked. He was frowning too, but it was his thoughtful frown.

“I don't know. I didn't get a chance to see what Ambrosia was buying, everything went to hell too quickly. Must've been something dangerous. She dealt with drugs when she was in London, but she seems to be expanding her business enterprises here.”

“Hmm. What happened to Heckie Shanahan? Why didn't he show up for this meeting?”

I opened my mouth but nothing came out at first. Mum and Dad were both watching me. I didn't want to meet their gazes, so I focused on Ramses instead. He was chewing on one of the petals of the toy flower, his little round cheeks shiny with saliva.

“Because I got him killed. She must have known... that I visited him... they found his body-” I broke off and wiped my nose furiously on my sleeve, willing the tears not to come. I was not a person who cried, I wasn't. It was just that after having Ramses, the tears seemed to have forgotten that I wasn't a crier. They came anyway, these days, at the weirdest times. It was more than a little horrifying to me.

Dad was silent, and Mum got up to come sit beside me, pulling me tight up against her. I rested my head on her shoulder.

“I liked him,” I said truthfully. “I thought he was all right, for a criminal. He didn't deserve to die. They said it was blunt force trauma injury. With Ambrosia, you know what that means.”

“Shovel,” Dad muttered.

“We don't know it was Ambrosia who killed him, or why he was killed. I'll look into the details of his murder so we have the facts. Don't torture yourself over it. It may have had nothing to do with you, and even so, there was no way you could have known.” Mum gave me another squeeze and patted my back. “You were doing the best you could. Although I still think you should've left it.”

“They're not going to give you the details on an open murder investigation, Hermione,” Dad said.

“Yes, they bloody well will.”

“Language.” Dad smiled smugly at her and pointed at the baby. She stuck out her tongue.

“It was Ambrosia, I know it. She killed him. She'd been threatening to do it, he was afraid of her but afraid to run away, too. He said he was thinking of turning state's evidence, getting some kind of witness protection deal.” I sat up again, and Mum gave me a kiss on the cheek before returning to her notepad.

“I'll look into that as well, then. See if he did it. Maybe she found out he was planning to testify against her and killed him for that. It may not be your fault at all,” Mum added. “Besides, you can't be held accountable for what murderers decide to do. Let's continue where we left off. When the second group of criminals arrived on the boat, there was a fight?”

“Yes.” I remembered Ambrosia's eyes meeting mine over the dead body on the crate. “And Ambrosia saw me before she got away.”

Dad shook his head. “That's not good.”

“Really not good,” I agreed. “But she only gave me a look and then Disapparated. I was about to do the same when that MLE grabbed me.”

“And they brought you to the Aurors?”

“Yeah. They seemed sure I had something to do with the whole thing. I told them I'd only been watching. I'm a witness, not a perpetrator. Well, some of them seemed sure,” I corrected myself, remembering Hatchcock's attitude. He hadn't seemed to really believe his colleagues. “The other one not so much. He's the one who arranged the international Floo call to your office, Mum.”

“Good thing for you,” Mum said briskly. “I'll get this straightened out. They haven't a shred of evidence to prove you did anything wrong. Being bullheadedly determined to single-handedly catch bad guys on your own without training isn't illegal.”

“Yeah, or your uncle Harry would've gone to prison before we left school,” Dad put in. He and I grinned at each other, and Mum only sniffed a bit. She wasn't disapproving of Uncle Harry, although she never hesitated to let him know when she thought he was wrong about something. It was just that she didn't like Dad encouraging me.

Mum had been wanting me to quit my job for years. She'd been sure when I stopped working to have Ramses that I wouldn't go back after he was born. When I had, she had reacted with even more disapproval than before. Dad had backed me up by saying “What she's doing isn't any more dangerous than what I do, and it doesn't make me a bad parent to do it,” and that put an end to Mum actively trying to get me to quit. Now she just sniffed disapprovingly and gave us both dirty looks.

Dad didn't particularly like me being a bounty hunter either, but for him it was more because he'd hoped one of his children would follow in his footsteps and go into law enforcement. Becoming an Auror was a little more than I wanted to sign up for, and I didn't fancy being an MLE either. Too many rules, and too many hours. I liked that I could do what I wanted as a bounty hunter.

“Still, I don't like that they're so sure you're at fault,” Mum mused, tapping the end of her quill against her lip. “I'll go down there shortly and gather everything I can get from them.”

“Want me to come with you?” Dad offered. “I might get more out of them than you. Auror to Auror, you know. Might make them friendlier than you getting all lawyerly at them.”

“True. Do you think it's safe to leave Rose alone?”

I rolled my eyes, even though she seemed genuinely concerned. “Mum, I'll be fine. I'll just have a nap. I haven't slept all night.”

She didn't look reassured, and glanced back at Dad in appeal. “Ron?”

“It'll be all right for a few hours. She won't be alone, it'll be her and Scorpius. Why don't you two nap in here? Just in case someone comes looking for you in your room.” Dad picked Ramses up and scrambled to his feet. “We'll be back in two hours.”

That wasn't a bad idea. Being in the wrong house had kept me out of the clutches of a couple of serial killers a few years back. Mum and Dad headed back to the New York Auror department, and I woke Scorpius long enough to move into Mum and Dad's room. With Ramses curled up between us for his morning nap, I felt like we had a nice little bubble of safety. It was probably only my imagination, but having my parents on the job and my baby right next to me, I was able to fall asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Dad shook me awake a few hours later, and I reached automatically for Ramses. He wasn't there. My heart jumped, and I looked up to see Mum had him sitting on a chair and was washing his face. His hair stood on end like it always did when he first woke up, and he was chattering away at her in his nonsense baby babble.

Mum always pretended she was having a conversation with him when he did this. I wasn't sure which of them enjoyed it more.

“Oh my goodness. You don't say. Wasn't that clever of you.” She paused and let Ramses babble a bit more. “Aren't you just the silliest boy in the world. I know.” And they both laughed.

“Your mum's mental,” Dad mumbled, but he winked at me.

I pushed my hair out of my face and turned to shake Scorpius awake.

After a quick shower and change of clothes, we were both feeling human again. Scorpius seemed positively chipper now that my parents were here. Probably the thought of having free babysitters. That always cheered me right up.

A few minutes later, I figured out the other reason their presence had perked him up.

“So what shall we do today? A little sightseeing?” he suggested. “I wouldn't mind another look at that statue, if you'd like to see it, Mrs. Weasley.”

“Oh yes, that would be lovely. I've always wanted to see New York. There are so many cultural sites in the city, and the magical history of the island of Manhattan is really fascinating.”

“We can have lunch down in Battery Park while we're there,” Scorpius said. “There's loads of little food trucks and such. Very Muggle.”

Mum was nodding pleasantly, but Dad looked rather distracted.

“Ron?” she prodded him. “You'd like to see the Statue of Liberty, wouldn't you?”

He looked up, a bit slowly, obviously breaking from a reverie. “The statue of what? Look, Hermione, I've been thinking-”

I had to hide my grin. Mum's brows drew together. “Ronald-”

“We need to finish taking care of this. Just because the Aurors have agreed to drop their investigation of Rose if she stays out of any further involvement in whatever the hell's going on-”

My mouth dropped open. “They did what? Mum, you didn't agree to that, did you?”

“Of course I did. The Aurors are investigating. There's no need for you to get involved.” Mum looked annoyed now. “We can go do some sightseeing, spend the day as a family-”

“But Mum-”

“Ronald-”

“Rose, it's time to let it go,” Scorpius butted in. “You were _arrested!_ Isn't that enough? This was supposed to be a holiday.”

No wonder he was so glad to see my parents. He thought it would make me drop my investigation, just because my parents had turned up. Mum might be on his side, but Dad was on mine. I wasn't going to just drop this, even if it had got me arrested.

“I can't! I can't just let it go. The Aurors were certainly doing a bang-up job investigating, they had no idea what was going on until I told them about it.”

“They found you on that pier,” Mum said. “They must have been doing something right.”

“How _did_ they find her on that pier? What I mean is, what drew them there? They wouldn't say. Did they get a tip-off? Why were they so sure Rose was involved and not just a bystander? I didn't like the look on that one bloke's face when we spoke to the Aurors here.” Dad ran a hand through his hair. “Something doesn't feel right. And I don't like that Ambrosia knew Rose was there. Backing off may not be enough.”

“If she sees that Rose has stopped coming after her, she has no reason to attack Rose,” Mum stated.

“I'm not so sure,” Dad said. “She's already had one run-in with Rose where she tried to kill her.”

“But first she warned her off!”

“Yeah, and it didn't stop Rose, did it?”

I wasn't so sure that had been a helpful way to phrase it, but Dad had a point. “Mum, Dad's right, even if I stop now, it's no guarantee Ambrosia won't come after me. She knows I was there. She probably knows by now that I was the reason Anita Spiker didn't show up for the meeting, and I'm betting she knows I visited the judge and Heckie Shanahan. We need to work out what she's up to and put a stop to her.”

Mum was practically vibrating with anger. “No, Rose! It's time to let it go!”

“But Mum, she saw me! She knows I'm here, she knows I'm trailing her!”

“All the more reason for you to stop!”

Ramses let out a loud wail then, and we all shut up for a moment. Mum jiggled the baby on her hip to quiet him, making shushing noises, and Scorpius watched me, his face a bit flushed. I couldn't meet his eyes; I knew he was angry but it didn't change anything. I had to finish this. I knew it, and Dad knew it. Mum probably knew it too, she just didn't want to admit it.

“What do you propose we do, then?” Mum asked. Her tone was much softer now, but it was only for the baby's sake: her eyes were still hard with anger.

Dad answered instantly. “Treat this like an investigation. Finish what Rose started. Track down the next lead.”

“And I suppose Scorpius and I will just stay here with the baby?” Mum didn't look pleased.

Dad had the grace to look uncomfortable. “Well, Hermione, you're not a field agent or anything...”

“Fine.” Mum's eyes practically snapped, but she kept her tone calm. “You two go. I expect to see both of you back before nightfall. Alive and intact.”

“Yes, Mum,” I said meekly.

“Yes, dear,” Dad said.

Mum and Scorpius returned to our room with Ramses, since his toys were in there, and probably also because she wanted to leave in a huff and it was the only way to do so.

Dad picked up Mum's notepad from the table, scanned her tiny, cramped handwriting briefly, then tore a blank page out of the back and pulled a pencil stub from his jeans pocket. I watched him scrawl a few things on the page.

           _Judge Ellery  
_ _Heckie Shanahan  
_ _Anita Spiker  
_ _import/export?  
_ _foreign bad guy_

I don't think they could have had more opposite note-taking styles if they tried.

“Were you able to find anything out about Heckie's murder?” I asked.

“A bit, yeah. They didn't want to tell your mum a thing, just like I told her, but she kept bullying them until they gave away a few details. They don't know why he was killed, just speculation about his criminal activities getting him in the way of the wrong people. It wasn't just the shovel to the head, either, his entire body was damaged. Dark magic. Someone cursed the hell out of him and then finished him off with a shovel to the temple. I think we both know who that was.”

I sighed and sat down in the chair next to him, curling my legs up underneath me. “Poor Heckie.”

“Money laundering's a dangerous business, especially when you're about to go to trial over it. You think the judge is involved somehow?”

“He definitely knew more than he was saying.” I remembered the look on the judge's face. “Someone killed his son to make him do something, and I'm betting it had to do with Heckie's trial.”

“Heckie's dead now. No trial. Is it worth going back there? Would the judge respond to pressure?” Dad didn't mention that he couldn't bring official pressure, but we both knew it. He didn't have any more jurisdiction in America than I did, and no political power either.

I shook my head. “He's a high-ranking judge. He's not going to tell a foreign Auror anything.”

Dad put an X next to the judge's name. “How are we going to find out more about this Russian, or wherever he's from? My best guess would be to turn up Anita Spiker and pressure her.”

“We can try, but she's probably long gone by now. They kidnapped her daughter. She didn't want anything to do with the deal between this guy and Ambrosia, she's scared of him. If I were her, I'd have skipped town already.”

“Me too,” Dad agreed. “We'll stop by her place just in case, though. This bloke, the Russian-”

“Might as well call him that until we get a name,” I said.

“The Russian must be someone in the international record if Ambrosia is doing some kind of import deal with him. I'll put in a Floo to your uncle Harry and ask him to check into it. We don't really have anything yet, but maybe he can turn something up.” Dad scribbled _Floo Harry_ at the bottom of his list. “Know any local sources? You seem to be doing pretty well with that.”

“I met a bookie named Tanny Jack who knows a lot.”

“Good.” Dad folded up the piece of paper and stuck it back in his pocket along with the pencil stub. “Let's go visit the bookie.”


	11. A Hell of a Request

I took Dad to Anita Spiker's flat first, but as expected, no one answered. Dad looked around briefly to check the coast was clear and then pointed his wand at the door. It popped open immediately, and we slipped inside.

We spread out to look around. Dad was better at searching a place than I was, but it wasn't a large flat so it only took a moment to determine there was no one home. The few personal things I'd seen around the flat when we'd brought Gee back were now gone. There was a distinct air about the place of being abandoned.

“She's skipped town,” Dad said, poking through the bare kitchen cupboards. “Look at this place. No one's living here any more.”

“Yeah.” I tried to hide my disappointment. I'd known she was probably leaving town, but part of me had been hoping to find something here.

“All right then.” Dad flipped a cupboard door closed. “Let's go visit the bookie.”

Tanny Jack didn't look any happier to see us than he had to see Mimi. He recognized me immediately, let out a squawk, and once again made as if to run away. Dad, who is an experienced lawman and quick on the draw, cast a quick spell that slammed the trick door in Tanny Jack's face before he could escape.

“Ow!” he said, rubbing his nose where he'd bumped the wall. “What do you want? Haven't you caused me enough trouble already?”

Dad grinned at me. “I take it he knows you.”

“We want to ask you a few questions,” I told the bookie. He looked even more unhappy at that than the sight of us had left him.

“Why the hell should I tell you anything?” He shook his head and muttered rather loudly, “Freakin' bounty hunters, think they're cops or somethin', I tell ya...”

“This is my dad,” I said, gesturing. Dad waved to Tanny Jack. “He's an Auror.”

Tanny Jack groaned loudly. “First a bounty hunter, now an Auror? I'm gonna kill Mimi for bringing you people into my life, I dunno what that broad was thinkin-”

“We won't bother you for long,” I assured him. “Just a few questions.”

“Dammit,” said Tanny Jack, which I took for agreement and ploughed on.

“Do you know anything about a man named Heckie Shanahan?”

“Accountant. Laundered money for the Rock, does freelance work. Was up for trial but murdered day before yesterday. Never met him myself. He wasn't a gambling man, I guess.” Tanny Jack looked a little wary.

“And the Ellery family?” Dad asked. “Noah Ellery, Wyn Ellery, Greyson Ellery?”

“Murdered kid, crooked politician, straight as a ruler judge. The kid was killed to try to force old judge Stoneface to cooperate with the new ruling powers. Wyn, he's always cooperated of his own free will. Guy's a lowlife who grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth. If he'd been poor, he woulda been robbing liquor stores and selling drugs, but he's rich so he went into politics. Not a good person. Close personal friend of the Rock. Rumor is they worked together, but the Congressman's a slippery devil. No one's ever been able to prove anything with him.”

“And who are the new ruling powers?” I asked. “Anastasia Leatherby?”

“That'd be the one,” Tanny Jack said uneasily. “I don't want to get involved with all that though. I'm an independent businessman, you know? I keep it small, but I like to be my own boss. I got employees. People depend on me. I don't wanna be found out at the racetrack, okay?”

“Out at the racetrack?” I echoed.

He looked worried and said out the side of his mouth, “You know. Where they dump the bodies.”

“Mob hits,” Dad said, and Tanny Jack nodded.

“That Leatherby woman, she's taking over everything the Rock used to control when he was out. Some of his people had a few enterprises at first, but they're folding like a house of cards. She's stone cold ruthless. Kills anyone who gets in her way.”

Didn't I know it, too. Tanny Jack looked like he was genuinely scared, and Dad was rubbing his chin thoughtfully. I was picturing a racetrack with piles of bodies out the back.

“Everyone knows she's got some crooked cops on her payroll,” Tanny Jack went on. “Her guys, they don't get arrested, and when they do the cops drop the charges. I don't know how it is for you over there in England, but that ain't how this works here in America. Least it didn't used to be. She's got a territory and it's turning into a stranglehold. Just about any kind of illegal stuff going on down lower Manhattan, she's getting a cut. Drugs, weapons, paid violence. I lost a lot of customers to her bookies over in the wharfs. I'm trying to stay independent, but I might be moving to the outer boroughs to get my own piece again.”

It sounded like business as usual for Ambrosia. She'd tried a hostile takeover of an existing criminal organization back home, but had been unsuccessful and had to flee the country. This time around, Charles Rocke's imprisonment had made it easy for her. His organization had been left without a head, and she was there to step into his shoes.

I could tell from Dad's face that he had something on his mind still. Tanny Jack was more focused on Dad at this point. Probably because he had a badge and I didn't. Must be nice.

“Tell us some more about Heckie Shanahan,” Dad said.

It was amazing, his voice was quite mild, and he didn't look threatening, just standing there with his Auror face on, but Tanny Jack responded like he'd had his heels burned with a brand. I needed to learn to do that.

“He used to run numbers for the Rock, and when the Rock went up the river, old Heckie needed a new client. He always liked his money, so he looked for the biggest game in town. At the time, that wasn't so obvious, so he was working for a couple people. Then when this Leatherby broad started taking over the rackets all over the place, Heckie made sure he was a part of all that. Wanted his slice of the pie. I think he wished he'd retired to Florida when he realized she'd kill him as soon as look at him. The Rock wasn't like that. He was a proper crook. Wouldn't think of stabbing you in the back. It was all a straight Killing Curse to the temple with him. Stand-up guy.”

“Nice,” I said.

“Yeah, but Leatherby, she's not like the usual run of bosses. She's like a shark. Like...” Tanny Jack thought for a moment. “Like a Wall Street type. No conscience. Not like the old kind of mobsters.”

“Hmm.” Dad was rubbing his chin again. I gave him a moment, expecting him to have more questions, but instead he held out a hand to Tanny Jack, who looked surprised for a moment, then uncertainly reached out to shake Dad's hand. “Thanks for your help. We appreciate your cooperation.”

We went outside and walked slowly down the street. Dad was still deep in thought, his eyes fixed unseeingly on the pavement. I had to grab him to stop him walking into a light pole.

By the time we reached the end of the block, Dad appeared to have come to a conclusion. He stopped at the corner.

“It's all hearsay and rumors so far,” he told me. “We need to go to a source, an actual witness. Original knowledge. Heckie is dead, it looks like Anita's left town, and there's no evidence of wrongdoing on the part of the judge. Your mum and I don't have the political clout here to lean on him, and we don't have anything specific yet to take to him that might get him to talk of his own volition. And the only one found alive at the pier to take into custody was you.”

None of that sounded very good, especially the bit about me being the last one standing at the pier. My stomach started roiling. “So what do we do?”

“We need to talk to Charles Rocke.”

My mouth dropped open. “Dad, he's... he's serving a life sentence in Montain. It's like Azkaban. We can't just go there.”

“I've been to Azkaban in the course of my duties,” Dad said.

“Yeah, but this isn't like that,” I pointed out. “We're not at home. You haven't any jurisdiction here. We can't just go to Montain.”

“So let's get some jurisdiction. Come on, we're going to the Auror office.”

*

Feeling slightly exasperated, I followed Dad up the stairs to the office of the young Auror we'd spoken to at my arrest. Hitchcock, or Hatchcock, something like that. Rather to my surprise, he'd been willing to meet with us as soon as Dad asked. Dad didn't seem surprised. Probably he was used to people jumping at the chance to confer with him. Mostly they avoided me.

Hatchcock had a very small office with only one very small window. It did not have a view: all I could see was the brick facade of the building next door, across a narrow alley. He was obviously new in town if not at the job, because there was hardly anything personal in there, and a few boxes were stacked in one corner. I had practically grown up in the Auror Department back home. This wasn't the usual way their offices looked.

After greetings were exchanged, he invited us to sit, and Dad leaned back in the chair as if he were making himself at home. It was almost as if Dad were interviewing Hitchcock in his own office.

“I apologize if Agent Bleach offended you,” Hatchcock said. “He's a little singleminded sometimes.”

I thought Bleach was a big fat jerk, and Jessup too. Singlemindedly.

“He was just doing his job,” Dad said magnanimously. “Commendable, really.”

Easy for him to say, he wasn't the one who'd sat in a cell overnight.

“Hatchcock, was it?” Dad said then, and honestly, the man simply lit up.

“Yes, sir. Not a lot of people get the name right.”

Dad smiled, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “When your name is unusual, you notice other people's unusual names. Weasley isn't a common surname.”

I had gone to school with eleven other Weasleys. I had piles of relatives. There were so many Weasleys I couldn't even keep track of them all. Gran had an encyclopedic memory for them, and would point out third cousins twice removed at large family gatherings or if we happened across one in Diagon Alley, or tell a story about a distant Weasley relative who died fifty years ago as if we ought to know who they were. But sure, we had an unusual name.

Okay, so I knew what he was doing, and even managed not to roll my eyes at his attempts to ingratiate himself with Hatchcock. He wanted that interview with Charles Rocke. And to be honest, he was really good at this. The guy was warming up to Dad faster than a kettle on the boil.

“What can I do for you, sir?”

Dad leaned forward in his chair, giving Hatchcock a man-to-man look. Man, Dad was good at this. “Well, I need to speak with someone, and it's going to be a difficult request. I was hoping you could make it happen for me. Charles Rocke.”

Hatchcock's eyes widened. “That's a hell of a request.”

“I know.” Dad nodded.

Hatchcock looked apologetic now. “Sir, it's very difficult to get visitors at Montain. Normally only law enforcement and legal services see the prisoners. Even family has to have a judge's approval for the maximum security cells.”

“And Charles Rocke is in maximum security.”

“He was the biggest crime boss in the city.” Hatchcock ran a hand through his hair. “Why do you want to speak with Charles Rocke?”

“I think he can give us information on what's really happening with the case my daughter has been working. Anastasia Leatherby's activities. We believe Charles Rocke knows who's working with her.”

“I see.”

Neither of them looked at me, or mentioned my arrest. It was strangely fascinating watching Dad interact with an Auror who was neither one of his underlings nor my uncle Harry. It sort of reminded me a bit of how he talked to my brother Hugo and a bit of how he talked to my uncle George. I didn't really remember the days when my dad wasn't one of the top Aurors in the department, so I wasn't sure if he'd always been this good at getting to people, or if it was something he'd learned.

Maybe I could learn it too. Seemed like it would come in useful.

After a few minutes' silence, Hatchcock said, “I'll see what I can do. I can't promise anything, though.”

“Thank you.” Dad held out a hand, and they shook on it.

Once we were out on the street again, Dad started to smile.

“We're going to get that interview,” he told me.

My heart jumped a bit. Was I going to get to see the inside of Montain after all? “How do you know? Hatchcock said it was hard to get into Montain.”

“Because he wants to talk to Charles Rocke as much as we do. I could see it in his face when I mentioned Ambrosia's new alias.” Dad reached out to ruffle my hair. “You were awfully quiet in there.”

“Seemed best to just let you get on with it. Auror to Auror.”

“He's young. He responds well to a superior officer treating him like an equal instead of a rookie, like damn near every other young Auror or MLE. I get the feeling he hasn't been here long, isn't used to having friendly conversations with the locals. Reminds me of the Internal Affairs sorts when you're nice to them.” Dad sighed. “He seems like a decent kid, though. Hopefully he won't get in trouble for us. Come on, we'd better get back and do some sightseeing with your mum while we wait to hear back. Otherwise she's going to strangle me in my sleep for helping you track down criminals instead of telling you to let it go.”

“I don't like letting things go,” I admitted.

“Neither do I,” said Dad.

*

Mum was not happy with us when we got back. Dad took it with aplomb, because he's known Mum for over forty years and is quite used to her not being happy with him for various reasons. Despite being a grown-up and a mum myself, I still didn't like my mum being annoyed with me. I was used to it, since my life choices had annoyed her for years, but I didn't like it. This was why I usually didn't tell her what I was doing.

Scorpius was also not happy. In fact, the only person who seemed happy to see us was Ramses, who clapped his hands and yelled, “Mama!” It was immediately obvious that he was actually addressing my dad.

“Can you say Granddad?” Dad cooed at him, tickling Ramses under his chin. Ramses immediately lunged at him, practically leaping out of Scorpius's arms in a kamikaze bid for the freedom of his grandfather. Dad scooped him up and pulled a sweet from his pocket. Ramses left a big slobbering kiss on Dad's face and then gobbled up the sweet.

“Ron, you don't need to give him those every time you see him,” Mum said severely.

“He loves them. Don't you?” Dad asked him. Ramses only blinked at them both, the sweet still making his cheek bulge.

Scorpius sighed and got a cloth to clean the sticky drool from the baby's chin.

“We thought we'd come back and do some sightseeing,” I told Mum with the most cheerful voice I could manage. “Spend some family time. There's a ferry to the Muggle statue in the river, we can go visit it. You know how Ramses loves boats.”

“Are you stuck in your case?” she asked.

“Until we hear back from the Aurors, yeah,” Dad said. He'd put in a quick Floo downstairs to Uncle Harry, who was going to look into the Russian for us. Dad had decided it was best if Mum didn't know we were involving Uncle Harry.

“Does this mean we can finally go and see a musical?” Scorpius asked as he emerged from the bathroom. He mopped up Ramses' face, and Ramses screeched at him. “Shh, it doesn't hurt. Rose, you promised we'd go and see a Broadway show.”

“I know.” It was already afternoon, so it seemed unlikely that we would get to visit Charles Rocke today, even if Hatchcock was able to arrange the visit. There wasn't really anything else to do to chase down leads, so I reckoned I might as well placate my boyfriend. Erm, that is, spend some time with him.

“I wouldn't mind seeing a show,” Mum put in.

“What kind of shows are these?” Dad asked suspiciously. My father was not a fan of musical theatre, or any other kind of theatre, really. He quite liked Muggle action films, though.

“I heard 'The King and I' is playing,” Scorpius said to Mum.

She smiled like a teenager on her first date. “Oh, I love that one. The songs are just beautiful, and it's very romantic. And based on a true story, you know.”

Dad groaned. “Are you punishing me, Hermione? A _musical?_ ”

Mum frowned at him, and Dad let out a loud sigh.

“Can we at least get dinner first?”

We spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the Statue of Liberty (again, though actually I didn't mind the repeat visit). I pointed out Montain to Dad while Mum was distracted taking photographs of Ramses.

He gave it a long, assessing glance, and then muttered to me, “Reminds me of Azkaban.”

Mum gave us a long lecture about the statue, about which she knew rather more than I'd expected. Apparently it was designed by the same Muggle who built the Eiffel Tower. Honestly, the irrelevant information she retained never failed to amaze me. When I was a little girl, I'd thought that Mum knew everything. Now I knew she only knew about eighty-five percent of everything. Possibly ninety percent.

Scorpius pulled out his sketchbook and dashed off a lovely view of Mum holding Ramses, which was lucky because I hadn't found anything to give her for her birthday yet. I'd just convince Scorpius to make it a painting when we got home, and we'd be set. Dad strolled around with his hands in his pockets and pretended to listen to Mum while shooting glances at Montain off in the distance whenever she wasn't looking at him. He also managed to sneak two more sweets to Ramses.

After the statue, Mum and Scorpius dragged us off to see the wizarding memorial at the World Trade Center, and then some other historical site that Mum wanted to see. Dad managed to sneak off to a pub across the street at this last stop, and Scorpius was dispatched to go fetch him back because Mum said she didn't trust me not to join Dad.

By the time we picked up our tickets to the evening's show (Dad grumbled heavily about the price, but picked up the tab for all of us anyway), everyone was tired and hungry. Mum graciously allowed pints for Dad and I in the restaurant we stopped at for dinner.

Ramses fell asleep while we were getting our seats, and slept through the entire show. I had to take him out of Dad's arms and settle him on my own lap when Dad dropped off as well.


	12. The Rock

The next morning, we had two messages waiting for us at the hotel's front desk. The first was from my uncle Harry, who'd sent over a sealed packet. This was addressed to Dad with “ _confidential_ ” stamped all over it, but I read it over his shoulder. He didn't seem to care. I could see why: There wasn't much there. Uncle Harry had two suspects that would fit the description of the Russian, neither of whom was anyone you'd want to meet in a dark alley, both with shadowy reputations for violence and various crimes, everything from smuggling to counterfeiting to assassination. Neither one of them had known identities, only nicknames given by law enforcement in various countries. There was a note at the bottom in Uncle Harry's handwriting that read, “ _Sorry Ron, this is all I've got. Watch your back_.” Dad folded up the sheet of parchment and stuffed it in his pocket.

The second message was from Hatchcock, and much more helpful than what Uncle Harry had sent over. The young Auror had managed to get an official interview with Charles Rocke and was inviting us to assist him – acting as consultants to the New York Department of Aurors, Manhattan Bureau.

“Do we get paid as consultants?” I asked hopefully.

“Don't press your luck, Rose,” said Dad.

The visit to Charles Rocke was scheduled for eleven o'clock, which meant we were going to have to ditch Mum and Scorpius for most of the day. They weren't going to like that. But at least I didn't need to worry about leaving Scorpius and Ramses unprotected. Mum was worth ten regular people when it came to knowing useful spells for every situation.

That didn't mean, of course, that Mum was happy with this plan when we told her about it.

"You're going to _what?_ "

Dad didn't even look embarrassed that Mum had just shouted in the dining room. The other guests were staring at us. Dad continued eating, ignoring all of them as he made steady inroads into the huge pile of eggs and sausages on his plate.

"We're going to Montain to interview Charles Rocke," he said again. "We'll probably be gone well into the afternoon, so you may want to have lunch without us. We'll just grab something off a food truck somewhere."

Dad's idea of food off a truck was sure to be something Mum disapproved of, like questionable curries and pizza mostly made of grease. Dad loved food trucks, probably because Mum didn't like him to eat that sort of food. In fairness, that was because that sort of food usually gave him heartburn, but that didn't stop Dad.

"What you eat for lunch is the last thing I'm concerned about," Mum began ominously.

"That'd be a first," Dad muttered with his mouth full.

Mum eyeballed him. "Ronald. _Why_ are you going to Montain? How are you even getting in there?"

"That young Auror, Hatchcock, is arranging it. I have a few questions and all the leads we've followed so far point to Charles Rocke."

This was true, actually. I'd hoped to get in to talk to him before but hadn't reckoned on getting to do so. Lucky thing Dad was around. Maybe getting arrested hadn't been all bad, since it had brought Dad out. Now I had an ally. I smiled at him fondly. Dad winked at me and bit into a sausage.

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," said Mum. "I thought we came here to get Rose out of trouble. Now you're diving right back into it with her."

"I _am_ helping get her out of trouble." Dad looked a little offended. He pointed his fork at Mum. "We can't just back off and expect Ambrosia won't come after Rose. This is too far gone for that. We have to see it through."

"You don't know that," Mum snarled. "Don't you point that fork at me, Ronald Weasley."

"You're just sore that I'm not doing what you say. You've been bossing me around since I was eleven years old."

Mum's nostrils flared. "If you would have some sense, I wouldn't have to boss you around."

"I have plenty of sense."

Mum let out a loud harrumph. People were openly watching us now. I'd heard the 'you haven't any sense'/'you always boss me around' argument between my parents all my life - I could probably recite the entire thing - so I could tune it out, but these people weren't used to Weasley family arguments. Oh well. I'd never have to see this particular audience again after I went home, so it didn't really matter.

Scorpius had heard my parents argue plenty of times, but he wasn't as used to it as I was. He was determinedly feeding Ramses and pretending he couldn't hear anything. His face was a little red, though.

Mum and Dad were in full swing now. Dad had even stopped eating, which meant they were nearly to the climax of the argument.

"You're not the only one with brains, Hermione. Don't tell me how to do my job."

"You're not doing your job, you're _freelancing_. I never tell you how to do your job," Mum said, despite years of her telling Dad how to do his job.

Dad snorted. "Yeah right."

"Well then, if you dislike it so much when I speak to you, maybe I'll just stop."

"Oh sure. You haven't managed to not speak to me for more than a few hours since third year."

Mum looked as if she very much wanted to make a rude hand gesture at him. Instead she folded her arms across her chest, sitting back in her chair.

"You're being childish," said Dad.

"If this is the only way to get through to your father, then so be it," Mum said to me.

"I'm not a part of this," I told her.

She attacked me next. "Are you going too? To Montain?"

"Of course she is," Scorpius muttered.

"Of course I am," I said.

Mum looked more annoyed than ever. "Fine. Scorpius, you and I will take the baby and see the sights. I'm sure we can find something educational to do."

"Have fun with that," said Dad. "Rose and I are going to prison."

"Hopefully you'll come back out," Scorpius said, wiping jam off Ramses's chin.

*

Hatchcock was waiting for us in his office, busily writing up some report or other. Aurors were always doing reports. It seemed to be at least half of Dad's job was writing reports, or rather getting some of his underlings to do it for him. The secretaries who had to interpret Dad's chicken scratch ought to receive hazard pay.

"Ah, paperwork," Dad said expansively. "Both the bane of law enforcement and the grease that makes it run."

Hatchcock grinned and dropped his quill. "So true. How are you this morning, sir?"

They spent a few minutes chatting amiably. I put in a few words when I could and smiled prettily, but mostly left Dad to it. He was much better at this than I was. Must be an Auror thing. Dad always enjoyed talking with other law enforcement people. When we'd gone to France when I was a girl, Dad had kept trotting off to chat with the gendarmes when we were supposed to be viewing educational museums and historic sites (Mum had arranged our itinerary).

We set off shortly before noon, running late as always with a civil service. Hatchcock led us to a fireplace and at first I thought we'd be taking a Floo directly to Montain. But instead it let us out at a small boathouse with a pair of guards watching it. There was a single pier behind them with a rather well-used boat moored at the end.

The guards stopped us, wands drawn, and I saw Muggle guns were also clipped to their belts. They weren't joking about security here, I supposed. Hatchcock produced paperwork for the visit and his ID, which were duly recorded in a log book in purple ink. Dad showed them his own Auror identification and they examined it closely. I didn't have anything so official, so I gave them my Apparition license. They didn't seem as impressed by it as they had been by Dad's.

Finally they let us pass, and Hatchcock loaded us into the boat. There was a rusted old outboard engine at the back of the boat (Stern? Port? I wasn't very nautical) and he pointed his wand at it. It coughed blue smoke for a moment, then roared to life. The boat seemed to know where to go without anyone steering it, and we set off into the harbour.

It wasn't easy to hear over the noise of the engine, but Dad managed a bit of conversation anyway. I would've thought he was going to keep Hatchcock as a new best friend if I hadn't known he was only being political. Okay, he probably liked the bloke too, Dad usually got along pretty well with everyone. Product of growing up with six siblings, no doubt. Dad was able to be instant chums with nearly anyone he ran across, if he put his mind to it.

Montain loomed over us as we got closer. It was bloody enormous up close, taller than Azkaban, a black monolith in the middle of the bay. I felt a sizzle across my skin, as if we had passed some sort of invisible barrier.

"That's the security alert spells," Hatchcock shouted over the engine's roaring. "They're set to notify the prison guards when someone approaches. Repels Muggles, too. The dock guards called ahead, so they'll be expecting us. We'll go through the ID process again at the prison entrance."

I was glad they knew we were coming. I didn't fancy being greeted by a passel of guards with wands blazing. Dad only nodded, as if he'd expected no less, which was probably true. I'd never been to Azkaban, so maybe their security was similar.

It took another twenty minutes to get through the prison's security. We had to leave our wands at the desk and sign more log books, but that wasn't what took so long. That was all Dad's fault. One of the guards had heard of him, and they talked for far longer than I thought was normal. Once the first guard had started recounting Dad's history in the defeat of Voldemort, the other guards were far more impressed with him, and were all listening avidly. Dad seemed to be enjoying the attention. He just stood there grinning and making occasional comments on the story.

“Yeah, the bit about the dragon is true... No, that was Harry, not me, I only helped... Yeah, it's how my wife and I got together, actually...”

Eventually Hatchcock coughed discreetly, and Dad took the hint.

“Well, it was nice meeting you blokes.” He gave the guards a wave. “Stay sharp.”

I followed as Hatchcock led the way into the inner corridors of the prison. Dad had his hands in his pocket, whistling quietly as he walked. He seemed very cheerful. I reckoned he had definitely enjoyed the attention.

Most of the time, my parents don't mention their war history. It's not really day-to-day conversation for our family. But sometimes I was strongly reminded that they had done a lot, and that while Uncle Harry was the one who actually defeated Voldemort and usually got all the recognition, he never would've done so without Mum and Dad. This was usually accompanied by the reminder that though Uncle Harry avoided it, Dad loved revelling in the attention his heroism brought. Probably another by-product of growing up with six siblings. Dad rarely passed up an opportunity for a bit of attention.

Charles Rocke's cell was deep inside the prison. It seemed to take forever to get there, down winding corridors and a lift that took us down several levels. Since we'd started at ground level, we had to be under the water by now. Not even a window to attempt to climb out of for the deep security, it seemed.

We passed an open pit at one point, and I looked down and saw a dragon chained at the bottom of it. It looked like a Peruvian Vipertooth, the only dragon native to the Americas, but it was pale and stunted. It must've been here a long time. I could see the barred and burnt doors of a handful of cells around the edges of the pit. Apparently the dragon guarding especially high-security prisoners in Montain wasn't a rumour after all.

Dad had seen the dragon too, but he didn't comment on it, only murmured over his shoulder to me, “Don't tell your mother you saw that, or we'll never hear the end of it.”

“Right,” I said, and with one last glance at the dragon, we turned a corner away from the pit.

Hatchcock walked up to a cell at the end of a short corridor and knocked on the wall beside the bars of the door. “Mr. Rocke, we'd like to ask you a few questions.”

“Sure,” came a deep, gravelly voice. “I don't have anything better to do.”

Hatchcock drew his wand (he hadn't been required to turn his over – perks of having jurisdiction, I supposed) and conjured three wooden chairs. I moved to sit in mine, and finally got a look at Charles Rocke the mob boss.

He was about my dad's age, with salt-and-pepper hair cut short, a large beak of a nose, and a barrel chest. He hadn't got up, so I couldn't tell how tall he was, but I guessed he was a bit shorter than Dad. He didn't look like a crime boss, just like a tough old businessman. The cell was bare but for a bed and toilet. A book dangled from his hand; we'd obviously caught him reading. I could just make out the cover: it was part of a popular series of Auror novels, one of the older titles in the series.

“Good book,” Dad said as he sat down in the centre chair. “Always enjoyed that series, myself. I finished the latest one in two days. Couldn't put it down. Not terribly realistic, but certainly interesting enough.”

“I haven't read the last one.” Mr. Rocke set the book down, open to his page, on the bed next to him. “As you can imagine, getting to the bookstore has been problematic for me of late.”

Dad chuckled. “I'll see if I can arrange to have a copy sent for you.”

I could see wariness creep into Mr. Rocke's eyes, but he thanked Dad anyway. Dad was good at buttering people up, but this was a man who wasn't going to fold to Dad's charm.

“Who are your friends, Hitchcock?” he asked.

Hatchcock didn't correct him. Probably wanted to stay on good footing. “This is Ron Weasley, an Auror with the British Ministry of Magic, and Rose Weasley. She's a private investigator.”

Mr. Rocke nodded. “And what can I do for you folks today?” His voice was pleasant enough, but he was suspicious. I was sure Dad saw it too.

“We have a few questions for you about an ongoing case. What can you tell us about the woman currently known as Anastasia Leatherby?”

Mr. Rocke's eyes flickered briefly. I thought he might be surprised, but he hid it well. “What do you want to know?”

“Her dealings with the Ellery family,” I said. “And anything else you can tell us about her present activities.”

He dodged the first question neatly by answering the second. “I've been in prison the last year. I can tell you what I've heard since I was locked up.”

“Mr. Rocke, did you have dealings with Anastasia Leatherby before your imprisonment?” Hatchcock asked sternly.

“You might say that. She was nibbling at my heels,” he admitted. “Trying to take over small parts of my businesses, get a foothold. I tried to deal with her swiftly, but she's slippery.”

I interpreted that to mean he'd tried to have her killed and been unable to catch her. Definitely a crime boss.

“She's taken over a lot of my old business territory since I've been in here,” Mr. Rocke went on. “I don't get visitors, but things reach me. I hear she's in bed with a few of my old partners,” he added, his eyes hard.

“Partners?” Dad echoed.

“Some of my associates apparently took up with her after I was no longer able to oversee my enterprises. Loyalty is a highly prized virtue in my business. If Ms. Leatherby hasn't figured that out yet, who am I to enlighten her?”

Sounded like Ambrosia's new friends would throw her over the way they had thrown over Charles Rocke, if the opportunity presented itself. That might be good for us.

Mr. Rocke managed to look both impassive and slightly smug. He wanted to name names, I could feel it. I didn't know what to say to get him to spill it, though.

Fortunately Dad was an expert spiller, and even better at making connections. “The son of a prominent judge, the judge who ruled on your trial, was killed last week. Have you heard about that?”

“Noah Ellery's murder?” He nodded. “News like that travels fast. Judge Ellery put a lot of people in here.”

“Heard anything else about Noah Ellery's murder?” Dad asked mildly.

“I'd lay dollars to donuts it was that Leatherby woman,” Charles Rocke said. “But if you're hoping for proof, you're barking up the wrong tree. No proof here. Just rumours.”

A small stab of disappointment went through me, though I'd been expecting this. The man had been locked up, after all, since before the murder. “If you can connect Ms. Leatherby to the Ellery family for us,” I began.

“Well hell, I can do that. Who do you think the first one of my partners to jump ship so easily was? Hitched his star to hers when mine went south.” Mr. Rocke smiled sourly. Clearly he felt he'd been betrayed. “I woulda had him dealt with if I could.”

I had a feeling 'dealt with' meant something very permanent to Charles Rocke.

“Are you saying Greyson Ellery was your business partner?” Hatchcock asked, his voice tinged with shock.

Mr. Rocke snorted. “That old stick? Nah. His brother. Wyn needs a little under-the-table help now and then, and he likes to go to the top dog for everything. Underlings were never good enough for him. We had a few mutual business ventures, loose partnerships. Oral contracts, if you know what I mean. He wouldn't have been able to back out of some of them, and that woman was taking over everything I'd built up, including the partnerships with Wyn Ellery.”

“Did she take over any other business ventures you were working on?” I asked, struck by sudden inspiration. She'd inherited Wyn Ellery and Heckie Shanahan from Charles Rocke – or rather, gotten them in a hostile takeover – so was it possible she'd gotten the contact with the Russian the same way?

For the first time since we'd sat down, Charles Rocke looked at me. I mean really looked at me, examining me closely. It was a little unnerving.

“More than one,” he said finally. “Got something specific in mind, Ms. Weasley?”

“I don't know his name. Heckie Shanahan was working on the deal for Ambrosia – Anastasia, that is. Something at the docks, and a translator. The deal went south when the translator and Heckie were both no-shows. I saw him. Tall and dark and rather handsome, and didn't speak English much. Maybe-”

“Russian? Oh yeah, I know him. That'd be Radoslav Stanis. He's Ukrainian. Speaks four languages, but none of them English. Pain in the ass to deal with.” Mr. Rocke paused then, and looked at me sharply. “Why wasn't Shanahan there?”

“He's dead,” I told him. “I think Anastasia killed him.”

“Damn. Heckie was a damn good accountant. He could get money clean that no one else could. It was like magic.” He chuckled then. “What the hell, I'm in for life anyway. Stanis is an arms dealer. Magical stuff, Muggle stuff, blends of the two. If it goes boom or can kill someone, he can sell it to you. Dangerous stuff. I never wanted his full arsenal, but I was arranging a deal with him a few months before I got sent here. Leatherby took that when she took over my other business. She's thorough, I'll give her that. But Stanis is a skittish piece of work. I'd be willing to bet he was on the defensive just from changing partners in this deal. She probably wanted terms changed from what I had on order. He wouldn't have liked that. Volatile mix there.”

It certainly had been. No wonder the scene at the dock had gone downhill so swiftly. Stanis the arms dealer had been primed for an explosion to begin with, and when Heckie and Anita hadn't been there as planned, it would've been the last straw for him.

I glanced at Dad, who gave me an approving nod. He'd pulled the paper and pencil stub from his pocket and scribbled down Stanis's name at the bottom of the list.

Hatchcock looked very interested as well. He wasn't so practiced at the Auror face as my dad was. “What exactly were you purchasing from Mr. Stanis?”

“Probably not the same thing Leatherby's trying to get. She's got delusions of grandeur. I wanted explosives – mild stuff, for breaking into locks, that kind of thing. There's one that burns so hot, you can burn a body completely inside of fifteen minutes.”

Think of all the wear and tear they would save, not having to travel to dump the bodies at the racetrack. Burning them instead would be much more efficient. Ugh. Dad was frowning. I decided to keep sassy comments to myself.

Hatchcock seemed to consider this for a few minutes in silence, contemplating Charles Rocke through the bars of the cell door. Finally he asked, “Mr. Rocke, were you aware of any Aurors or other law enforcement personnel taking payments from any of your associates?”

Oh, holy Kneazles. Hatchcock's willingness to help, to get us in on a difficult-to-arrange interview, suddenly made a lot more sense. He was here because he thought there was a crooked Auror. Tanny Jack had been right about that. There was at least one dirty cop in New York's magical law enforcement, and Hatchcock knew it. From the look on his face, he already knew or suspected the answer, he just wanted Charles Rocke to confirm it. He'd been careful to phrase his question in a way that would allow Mr. Rocke to answer without incriminating himself.

Charles Rocke gave him a long, assessing gaze, and then said, “There's always a price if you can find the right lever. I employed people who were good at finding the spot to push on.”

Hatchcock nodded. “Auror, or Magical Law Enforcement?”

“Both are useful to have.”

Cryptic conversation aside, I took that to mean there were dirty Aurors _and_ MLEs. That was just great. Mum would have a field day. Lucky for us she couldn't practice law in America. Not that I was aware of, anyway, but I never put anything past Mum.

“Can you give us a name?” I asked. Crypticness was all very well, but if there were crooked Aurors, I wanted to know their names. So that I could avoid them.

Mr. Rocke was silent for a moment, then he said, “Mottershead and Alford were the MLEs. The Auror we were just developing, Mickey Shaw was working on him but he kept quiet. I didn't know a name yet.”

“Thank you, Mr. Rocke,” Hatchcock said, getting to his feet. “I may be back to talk more later.”

“Looking forward to it.” Charles Rocke picked up his book, but he caught my eye as I stood up, and I thought he winked at me. It had to be a trick of the light, though. Crime bosses didn't wink at young ladies, did they?

Dad and Hatchcock were both silent until we were nearly to the guard station. Dad reached out and grabbed Hatchcock's arm, stopping him so suddenly that I bumped into Dad's back.

“How much do you know about these dirty MLEs? And the Auror? Is he in your department?”

“I think so, yes.” Hatchcock seemed to debate whether or not to say more, then he said, “Your daughter's involvement since she first made contact with the Auror Department made me think it was Jessup. He was far too ready to lock her up on evidence that was circumstantial at best. We shouldn't have held her, and he was determined to do so. Her arrest itself was odd, and that made me suspect Mottershead, the MLE who headed the team that arrested her. He said he got an anonymous tip that something was going down at that pier, and the only person he brings back is the one who is getting in the way of the criminals? The one who's making trouble for the newest crime boss in the city? It's too pat.”

“Lucky anonymous tips do happen, but yeah, I see what you're saying.” Dad crossed his arms over his chest thoughtfully. “No proof, though, is there?”

“I don't have anything to hang around Jessup except suspicions. I haven't made a move on it at all. I don't want to spook him if I'm right, and if I'm wrong, I don't want to smear his name. I was brought here from the Washington D.C. office to look for corruption in the department.”

“What about this Mickey Shaw?” Dad asked. “Trying to get an Auror on their payroll.”

“He's dead,” I told them. “I heard about him before. Shot by Muggle police.”

“I need proof it was Jessup before I can make a move on him,” Hatchcock said again. “Hearsay from Charles Rocke won't hold up in court.”

Dad nodded. “Well then, let's see if we can't get something more concrete for you than suspicions and hearsay.”

“How are we going to do that?” I asked. I was all for catching a dirty Auror, especially if it was Jessup, who'd wanted me to serve time when I hadn't done anything, but I didn't know how we were supposed to go about doing it.

“First things first,” Dad said. “We're going to visit Wyn Ellery. Hatchcock, you might want to sit this one out. He'll talk more to us than he will to you.”

Hatchcock nodded reluctantly. “True. Wyn Ellery's got a long reputation in this city. He'll never incriminate himself in front of any sort of law enforcement. I don't think even an off-duty one from another country, sir,” he added to Dad, rather apologetically. “You might want to let your daughter take point.”

“What, me?” I perked up a bit.

“You got Charles Rocke to talk. He gave away more than I've ever seen without a district attorney present holding a possible-parole carrot over his head. You've got a way with criminals.”

“She gets it from her old dad,” Dad said modestly.

“Well, sometimes I've got a way with criminals because they're relatives,” I put in.

“My nephew Louis.” Dad shook his head, giving Hatchcock a knowing look. “He can't seem to help himself. One of my great-uncles spent some time in prison, but no one likes to talk about that. I think Louis must have got a recessive trait or something.”

Hatchcock nodded wisely. “Understandable. A lot of cops' families have those sort of relatives. My brother did time on a misdemeanor while I was in the Academy.”

“Should we go visit Wyn Ellery right now?” I asked hopefully.

Dad checked his watch. “It's after two. We'd better check in with your mum first. We can go visit Wyn Ellery this evening. Besides, you'll want to see your baby. We hardly got a moment with him this morning.”

“Do you have children, then?” Hatchcock asked me as we started walking again.

“Just one.”

We chatted about Ramses while we checked back out with the guards and retrieved our wands, and Dad whipped out a photo from his pocket. The guards all admired him – mostly for Dad's benefit, not mine – and then we began to make out way back to the boat.

One of the guards gave a little cough to get my attention as I followed Dad and Hatchcock out.

“Yeah?” I asked him, since he seemed to have something on his mind.

“Are you related to Dominique Weasley?”

Bloody Dominique. I got out of there as quickly as possible, leaving the guards starstruck by the sheer number of famous relatives I had. Honestly, sometimes I could hardly believe my family myself.

It was nearly three before we made it back to the hotel. Mum and Scorpius were there, and Ramses was napping in his cot.

“He fell asleep while we were at the library,” Scorpius told me as I peeked in at the baby.

“Trust you to go to a library,” Dad said to Mum, and she immediately turned to me.

“How did it go at prison? I see they decided not to keep you after all.”

Dad rolled his eyes and sat down at the table, setting his wand down beside him. “Still not talking to me? Nice. Very mature, Hermione.”

“Would you like tea?” Scorpius piped up. His voice was unnaturally loud. He really didn't like being trapped in a hotel room with my parents in the middle of a fight, I reckoned. “I'll make a pot of tea.” He scrambled to his feet and aimed his wand at the teapot on the sideboard, which boiled immediately, and then set about making the tea. I hoped it would help calm him down. Eventually he would get used to this sort of thing. My parents were always either fighting or sneaking off to snog. Sometimes both simultaneously. Somehow Scorpius never got used to the fighting, though he thought the snogging was hilarious.

“No, Mum,” I told her. “They didn't keep us. We got quite a bit out of Charles Rocke. Ambrosia's been taking over some of his old businesses. Probably rather a lot of them, knowing her.”

“Got a bit about some dirty MLEs as well. An Auror too, but we didn't get a name. Likely one of the blokes who had Rose held overnight.” Dad accepted a cup of tea from Scorpius. “Cheers.”

“And we got a line on who we should speak with next about figuring out what Ambrosia is up to so we can stop her,” I added triumphantly.

“Rose got that,” Dad said proudly. “So this evening, we'll be off to interview a crooked politician who's caught up in this whole thing somehow.”

“A crooked politician?” Mum echoed sharply, accidentally addressing Dad. “Ron, you wouldn't-”

“You should go back to not talking to me, Hermione,” Dad said encouragingly, sipping his tea. “It's doing me ever so much good.”

“Shut up or I'll poison your tea,” Mum told him.

Dad seemed to think this was hilarious, and laughed so hard he nearly choked. My parents were really weird.

Mum was nothing if not tenacious, though, so she went right back to not speaking to Dad again after that. We spent the entire rest of the conversation – mostly Mum monologuing about their day's activities (she gets very talkative when she's embarrassed) – with her asking me to pass things on to Dad even though he was sitting not ten feet from her. He chortled into his tea a few times.

Eventually the noise woke Ramses, and Mum took him off to the bathroom to change his nappy. It really was nice having my parents here. I hated changing nappies.

Scorpius was sitting beside me on the bed, watching Dad grin fondly at the bathroom door with the fatuous smile he always has when he's watching his only grandchild.

“Your dad might be sleeping on the couch tonight,” Scorpius said in an undertone.

Dad heard him. He shot us a grin over his shoulder. “Nah, she can't resist me for long. She may not be speaking to me, but she never throws me out of bed. Besides, I can do all the talking.”

“Ew,” I said.

Scorpius grinned back at Dad. Men are disgusting.


	13. Political Explosion

Mum commandeered the lot of us for a trip to the Maiden Launch gallery and then to dinner that evening. I really didn't want to go. I was ready to head straight for Wyn Ellery's house, which Hatchcock had given us the address for, but Dad caved in to Mum's high-handed tactics. I think he was starting to miss her talking to him and just didn't want to admit it. She was still not speaking directly at him, instead making me tell him things as we walked through the gallery. A few times she even told Scorpius to 'tell Mr. Weasley', but he just turned red and grinned a bit.

Probably that 'I can do all the talking' comment from earlier was on his mind. Thanks for the mental image there, Dad.

There were a few people wandering through the gallery still, and I noticed several paintings were missing from their displays. I hoped that meant people were buying things. Scorpius looked rather gleeful as he counted the empty spots on the wall. He, of course, knew exactly how many were missing, and probably exactly which paintings they were as well.

“Seven, Rose,” he told me with a grin, not troubling to keep his voice down. “I'll have to owl Yuvia when we get back to the hotel. Last count she gave me was five sold.”

A twinge of guilt squeezed me at that. I hadn't even known about the first five sold. Now he was up to seven and counting, which was good for us as we could certainly use the money, but I felt bad that I'd been so wrapped up in my case that I'd all but forgotten Scorpius's show. I leaned over and gave him a kiss, and he put an arm around my waist, pulling me to his side as he gazed around the gallery proudly.

I also felt guilty because I was hoping this gallery visit would put him in a good enough mood that he wouldn't get upset when Dad and I went off to interview Wyn Ellery tonight.

Mum was examining a portrait of an old and wrinkled Muggle woman. “This is wonderful, Scorpius, honestly. You must be so proud.” She gave a gentle cough then and added, “And your parents? I'm sure they're proud as well?”

She wasn't sure, though, or there wouldn't be a question in her voice. Scorpius's parents didn't approve of his career as an artist, and never troubled to hide their disapproval.

Scorpius only nodded vaguely, obviously unwilling to discuss it. His hand tightened on my waist. “A bit, yeah. But I'm glad you got a chance to see it, Mrs. Weasley.”

Dad was pretending he wasn't impressed as he looked around the gallery walls. Scorpius's paintings showed well under the professional lighting and all, but Dad had never liked him much. Apparently the idea that he and Mum were seeing the gallery show when Scorpius's parents couldn't be bothered with it made him feel bad, because he cleared his throat and managed to say gruffly, “Well done, Scorpius.”

Scorpius's ears turned a bit red. Dad leaned over and gave him a brief clap on the shoulder. They both looked away then, pretending nothing had happened.

Honestly, it was enough to make one choked up. Mum rolled her eyes at the two of them, and went back to looking at the paintings.

Ramses was too young to be impressed by any of it, of course, and he had no patience for looking at his father's paintings, so once he'd eaten all the sweets Dad had on him, he started to fuss. People gave us dirty looks, so Mum herded us all off to dinner.

Dad waited until Mum had eaten a large slice of chocolate cake, and Ramses had fallen asleep face-first in his plate of spaghetti, before he announced that we were off to Wyn Ellery's house.

Mum pursed her lips, but she managed not to speak to him directly. She turned to me ostentatiously. “Rose, be very careful. If this man is the sort of politician you think he is, he feels that he's above the law. He could be dangerous.”

“Don't worry, Hermione, I can handle it.” Dad leaned down to kiss her on the temple, and her nostrils flared a bit.

“Rose, tell your father that I'm sure he _thinks_ he can, but he doesn't have back-up here. Or jurisdiction.”

“Never stopped me before,” Dad said cheerfully.

I was pretty sure Mum was grinding her teeth as we left.

Wyn Ellery's house was just as large as his brother's. Possibly larger. It looked like it was half the block. The facade was pale stonework, with ornate columns at the entrance. It was a little gaudy. I liked the judge's brownstone better. Still, I would've happily traded either of the Ellery brothers' city mansions for my little run-down flat in London. I've always wanted a place in the city.

Dad stopped on the pavement in front of the house and said to me in a low voice, “Do as much of the talking as you can. Don't tell him you're a bounty hunter, say you're investigating and leave it at that. If he presses you, you're a private investigator. Don't tell him I'm an Auror. I'll just be your old dad along for some help and general escort.”

“Got it.” I nodded. “You don't mind me lying to him?”

“Might as well play to your strengths,” my father said. “Do you have a plan of attack for this?”

“I don't really plan things.”

Dad smiled a bit. “Somehow that doesn't surprise me. Go ring the bell.”

It was only a few seconds after the bell rang before the door swung open. A middle-aged man in nicely tailored robes stood there, looking quizzically at us. He had the distinct air of a butler about him, but I hadn't thought Americans had butlers. Maybe rich Americans had them.

“Can I help you?” he asked, with just the right amount of condescension. Definitely a butler.

“We'd like to speak to Mr. Ellery,” I said, giving him my best trustworthy smile.

“May I ask what this is regarding?”

“Protecting his business concerns,” I told him.

The butler blinked, and indicated we should wait in the foyer. He disappeared down a corridor, and Dad said under his breath, “Good one, Rose.”

“Thought it would get his attention,” I whispered back.

The butler returned less than ten minutes later, followed by an older man who greatly resembled Judge Ellery, though without reminding me of my father this time. He was tall and steely, with grey hair and a strong jawline. He wore a dark grey Muggle suit that I could tell was very expensive. He smiled at us, and his teeth were very white and even, and the smile didn't reach his eyes.

He certainly looked like a politician.

“That will be all, John,” he said to the butler, who nodded and made himself scarce.

Wyn Ellery turned to us then, with the practised smiled on his face. “What can I do for you folks?”

I gave him my trustworthy smile, hoping it didn't look as fake as his. “Can we speak privately?”

We followed him back to his office, a large room lined with floor to ceiling bookshelves, dark green carpets, and an enormous desk polished to a dark sheen the same colour as the shelves. Everything seemed to be decorated in dark greens and darker woods. It felt like a very large, very expensive cave.

Wyn sat down behind the desk, leaning back in his chair with his fingers laced across his lap. He looked comfortable and confident; I wondered if he'd practised it.

“I assume you both know who I am, or you wouldn't be here,” he began. “Perhaps you'd do me the courtesy of introducing yourselves?”

“I'm Rose Weasley,” I told him. “This is my father, Ron. I'm investigating the death of your nephew, Noah Ellery.”

Wyn's face didn't change, but I saw something close off in his eyes. “You told John that this was a business meeting.”

“I said we were here to talk to you about protecting your business concerns,” I corrected him, keeping my smile pleasant. “Not quite the same thing.”

“What on earth does the death of my nephew have to do with my business concerns?” Wyn asked, and I knew from the look in his eyes that he knew exactly why his nephew had been killed. Suddenly the entire thing bloomed in my head, like the sun coming out from behind a cloud, as the pieces snapped into place. I was sure I knew what he'd done.

“I think we both know the answer to that,” I said, hoping I was right about this. “It has to do with your new business partner, the one who took over from your old friend Charles Rocke. Anastasia Leatherby.”

This time Wyn's face twitched. I felt Dad stir beside me, and wondered if he was fidgeting (which he didn't normally do) or if he was getting ready to pull his wand. I kept my eyes on Wyn though. I didn't want to look away and break the connection.

“I don't know anyone by that name,” Wyn said, his voice perfectly normal. He was obviously well-practised at denying knowledge of any of his activities. Typical politician. “What is your interest in the matter? Did my brother hire you?”

“I've spoken with Judge Ellery.” I wasn't an MLE, I could imply I was working for his brother and there was nothing illegal about it. Dad stayed silent, since he couldn't say the same. “Why don't you tell me what you know about Anastasia Leatherby?”

“As I said, I don't know anyone by that name.” Wyn's voice was smooth, but I could see the fear in his eyes. If I pushed him just right, he was going to open up. I was sure now that I was right, that I knew what he'd done.

“Oh, she's got a lot of names, but that's the one she's been using in New York. We spoke with the Rock. He's not too pleased with you right now. Knows you threw him over for Anastasia Leatherby. The new rising star of the criminal underworld, was she? And you hitched your star to hers.” I was on a roll. I couldn't stop talking. “And when she wanted your brother the judge in her pocket and he refused, Noah Ellery got to be the sacrificial lamb to convince his father to play along. The only thing I haven't decided yet is if killing Noah was your idea or hers.”

Wyn stared at me. The colour had drained from his face, and he opened and closed his mouth soundlessly.

“Does your brother know?” I asked. “That you're the reason his son is dead?”

Wyn was still pale, but he whispered, “He knows.”

He turned in his seat, and I saw Dad twitch again and glanced over at him. His wand was in his hand, held surreptitiously at his side, ready to leap to our defense if Wyn Ellery drew his wand. Dad caught my eye and tilted his head at Wyn, as if to say _keep going_.

“I can't help you if you don't tell me what happened,” I said to Wyn's back, watching him pour a glass of whiskey from a narrow table behind his desk chair. His hands were a bit shaky. I supposed even a politician might baulk at murdering a family member. “Anything you tell me is off the record.”

Dad shot me a glance. Well, I hadn't promised that anything _he_ heard was off the record, but I couldn't point that out to him in front of the Congressman. He'd figure it out soon enough. Dad had years of experience with listening to people hedge the truth, and not just me, either.

“I never intended Noah to be hurt,” Wyn said solemnly, apparently taking me at my word. He turned back to face us again, though this time he didn't meet my eyes, and downed almost half of his drink in one gulp. Wiping a bit of sweat from his forehead, he went on, “It wasn't my idea. It was hers. Anastasia's. She wanted my brother to throw the cases on a few of her men, that money launderer and a few of her hired guns, or to recuse himself. But Greyson doesn't do that, high and mighty Greyson would never step back. Even when he gets death threats. I tried to tell her what he's like, but all she would see is that he's my brother. Like I have any influence on him. We hardly see each other. He doesn't like to be reminded that he's got a relative like me. I was never good enough for him. And her, she got angry when I suggested trying for a new judge. She said we'd just have to put pressure on the new one, and why do that when we already knew Greyson's pressure points. She wanted him to declare them not guilty. He would never have agreed to it. I told her, but all she said was to think of a way. And I... I was afraid of her then. I've known a lot of hardened men in my day. In Congress, in business. And she is something else.”

That was the truest thing he'd said yet. I supposed Ambrosia had scared the crap out of the Congressman. “She's a sociopath.”

Wyn nodded. “I didn't know what else to tell her, so I said his pressure point was his children. That if she told the judge his sons might be hurt, maybe he would bend. It was the only thing I could think of that might get that hardass to agree. She had me pass on the message. She never had any direct contact with him. I told my brother that something bad might happen to his family if he didn't agree to her terms. I thought she'd threaten them, I didn't think she'd follow through.”

I could see that lie in his eyes, too. He'd known there was a better-than-average chance that Ambrosia would do something to one of the Ellery boys. And he hadn't done a thing about it.

He finished off his drink, and set the glass down on the desk with a dull thud. “He told me to go to hell. And Noah's body turned up the next day.”

I watched him for a moment. That had been more than I'd hoped to get out of him. The fact he was having a drink and talking might mean he felt guilty for causing his nephew's death, or it might mean he'd gone completely over the edge and planned to kill us. Bad guys, in my experience, like to talk a lot when they think they can kill you at their leisure.

Wyn didn't look like a man about to commit murder, though. He looked like a man who had hit rock bottom. I didn't think he was going to try to fight his way out of this one. And I was completely sure, as Wyn knocked back his whiskey, that Dad would be able to take him down if he did. Wyn Ellery was a politician. He was a talker, not a fighter.

“She'll probably kill me when she's through with me,” Wyn said. “I thought she was more like Charles. He was a real businessman.”

“Your brother put him away as the biggest crime boss in the city,” I said without thinking.

“He respected the old traditional values. You don't mess with policemen's families, with judges' families, because then there's nothing to stop them going after yours. In the old days, everyone knew that. It was an unspoken code. When someone stepped out of line with it, things got bad quickly. Everyone learned to keep the boundaries.”

“She doesn't have any boundaries,” I informed him. “She's a sociopath.”

“It was too late before I saw that in her. She's got a lot of dirt on me, dirt I didn't even know she had until she killed Noah. I said I wanted to sell my concerns in our mutual business endeavours, and she... She laughed at me.”

Wyn Ellery was definitely spooked. I was starting to think it wasn't just guilt that was making him talk. It wasn't that he thought Ambrosia had crossed a line, broken the gentlemen's code of being a crime boss. It was that he thought he was next.

The saddest thing was, after meeting Charles Rocke, I knew that if Wyn had suddenly tried to 'sell his concerns', he wouldn't have gotten out of that partnership either. When you were involved in organized crime at that level, you were in until you died or went to prison. He didn't even know how trapped he really had been, from the first time he'd taken a bribe from a mobster. He thought Charles Rocke was his friend, even now. It was only business to him.

It wasn't just business to Wyn's partners. And it wasn't just business to his brother, either.

Wyn had managed to make a lot of enemies for himself. No wonder he was spilling his guts.

“I don't think you can get out of your mutual business concerns, short of dying,” I told Wyn, as gently as I could. I didn't like him, but I wanted him to keep talking. “Do you know where Anastasia is right now? What do you know about what she's up to with this Russian arms dealer?”

“Radoslav Stanis,” Dad added in a quiet voice.

Wyn shook his head. “I don't know anything about that. I don't do weapons. I'm in real estate and investments. I'm a politician, not a criminal.”

I raised an eyebrow at that, but he didn't seem to notice.

“I don't know where she is right now. I've always met her at restaurants. The more expensive, the better she likes it. At first she picked up the tab – thousands of dollars – but now she always leaves it for me.” Wyn obviously felt he was getting the worse end of that deal, but getting stuck with the cheque was definitely preferable to getting struck with a shovel.

“You never had anyone look into her when you started your 'mutual business concerns'?” Dad asked mildly. I could hear the quotation marks in his voice. Dad didn't think much of this bloke, which came as no surprise. Dad was very serious about family loyalty. Having lost his brother to war at a young age, he was not going to look kindly on a man who'd got his own nephew killed.

Wyn looked over at Dad, assessing him. He seemed to have forgotten Dad was there. After a moment's silence, he said, “I did, actually. There wasn't much to find. She was an up-and-comer, so I was leery at first, but she was taking over the old rackets so swiftly. Out with the old and in with the new.”

He wanted to stay new. No surprise there either, he was a typical politician. But I saw what Dad was getting at. “And when you looked into her, where did you find her headquarters?”

Even if she didn't have a permanent place she was living, she would need someplace regular to do business in. Maybe a series of places, knowing her. Ambrosia had been caught out in her takeover plans last time, so she was probably being more careful about it this time. Well, obviously, since she was succeeding in New York where she had failed in London.

“Not a single place,” Wyn hedged. “She rents buildings in various places. She doesn't have an office, or an apartment that my investigator could find. He had to be very discreet, so she wouldn't know he was there.”

No kidding. She would have killed him as soon as look at him.

“Where did you find her, Mr. Ellery?” I asked again.

He was silent again, rubbing his temple. Then he looked up at me, and our eyes locked.

“Kips Bay.”

The door burst open behind us. Wyn Ellery clutched harder at his drink. Dad and I turned in our seats, his wand drawn and aimed at the door, but there was no danger. Not to us, anyway.

Judge Greyson Ellery stood there, looking surprised to see us.

“Miss Weasley,” he said, staring at me. "I didn't expect to see you here."

I jumped to my feet. “Just an interview, sir. This is my father, Ron Weasley. Dad, this is Judge Ellery.”

Dad got to his feet and they shook hands.

“I've heard of you, of course,” the judge told my dad.

Dad gave him a crisp nod, and then we all stared at each other in silence. Wyn downed the rest of his drink and glanced over at the bottle of liquor. Whatever rapport I'd managed with him was gone now, the spell broken.

“I'd like to speak to my brother alone,” Judge Ellery said quietly.

“They were just on their way out,” Wyn muttered, finally getting to his feet as well.

I didn't really want to go; I was dying to hear what the judge had to say to his brother, since Wyn had told us they rarely spoke, but the judge's face was impassive. It was obvious he wasn't going to say a word in front of us.

Dad gave a nod over his shoulder toward the door, and we left. The butler was standing outside in the hallway, and I glanced back as he closed the door behind us. The Ellery brothers were both standing like statues, facing off across the desk, and I could see the fear in Wyn's eyes and the pain in Greyson's.

*

Dad and I waited until we were back on the street our hotel was on before we started dissecting everything Wyn Ellery had said.

“You did really well with that interrogation,” Dad told me proudly. “Sure you don't want to come work for the Ministry? You could have actual jurisdiction. Back home, anyway.”

“I don't want to be an MLE, Dad. I like my job. But thanks,” I added, grinning at him. “What did you think of his story?”

“I believe it. He's scared. Politicians who think they're about to get killed will tell the truth, or enough of it anyway, to someone they think can help. He obviously thought you were someone who would help.”

“I don't know why he'd think I would help him. He got Noah Ellery killed. He all but told her to do it.”

“He claims he didn't realize she wouldn't use it as an empty threat.” Dad paused to lean against the building.

“That's no excuse.”

“I agree,” Dad said quietly, scuffing the toe of his boot against the pavement. “Wyn Ellery's a son of a bitch, no question. Not sure he ought to die by shovel to the head, but he ought to be in prison, that's for sure.”

America didn't have a terribly long history of putting rich politicians in jail, whatever they had done. Somehow I didn't reckon Wyn was headed there. Maybe if we got Ambrosia arrested finally, she would implicate Wyn Ellery in enough illegal activities that he actually would do time. I wasn't holding my breath, though.

“What do you reckon about the judge?” I asked. “Why d'you think he was there?”

Dad shrugged. “I could come up with some theories, but they'd only be guesses why he was there. Maybe he wants to find out the truth about his brother's involvement in his son's death. Maybe he wants to give his brother a chance to make things right. Maybe he just wants to sock him in the eye for some revenge.” He shook his head. “Could be damn near anything.”

I was pretty sure Greyson Ellery did want to sock his brother in the eye, and I couldn't really blame him. “Maybe we can go visit the judge and find out.”

“I only got a minute to size him up, but I'd say he'd be a tough customer to crack. It'd take more time than we have to get on his good side. I'd definitely need to throw some political weight around to get that bloke to talk quickly. Shame we're not back home where your mum and your uncle and I have more influence. We'd probably be able to get something out of him. Here, though, I doubt it.”

“He did know who you were,” I pointed out.

“True,” Dad said thoughtfully. “We'll keep it in mind, if we can't get a better lead, but there isn't likely to be much point. If the judge knew anything concrete, he'd be off at the Auror Department, making them do something about it.”

I nodded, though it was disappointing. I wanted to talk to the judge again. I still thought he knew more than he'd said, but Dad was probably right about the likelihood of him talking to us freely.

“Come on, let's go inside,” Dad said, nodding his head toward the hotel. “Your mum's probably chomping at the bit to not speak to me.”

“Wyn really thought he could just tell Ambrosia he quit, and walk away?”

“Sell his stake in their businesses? I reckon he thought exactly that.”

“He's an idiot,” I said in disbelief as we headed into the hotel lobby.

Dad shook his head. “No. Just very, very self-assured. He's a politician.”

We bumped into Mum and Scorpius, with Ramses in his stroller, in the lobby.

“Where are you going?” I asked, surprised to see them.

“Ramses is out of nappies,” Scorpius told me. “And your mum fancied a walk.”

“Trying to avoid me?” Dad asked her with a wink.

“You should have just sent Mum out for them,” I told Scorpius in a low voice. “Shouldn't the baby be sleeping?”

He looked slightly annoyed that I was questioning his parenting. “He wouldn't go to sleep. I thought a walk might settle him. It's no wonder, with your parents coming, and you being in and out all day, it's a lot of excitement for a little guy.”

Before I could respond, there was a deafening boom, and the hotel shook down to its foundations. We all ducked instinctively, and Dad put up a Shield Charm over our heads just in time as chunks of the ceiling rained down on us in a cloud of purple dust.

“Was that an explosion?” Mum gasped.

“Outside,” Dad barked at me. “Take Ramses. Now! Hermione, help me get these people out of here.”

“Of course,” she said, so unnerved that she forgot not to speak to him directly.

Scorpius was already heading for the door, and I dashed after him. Mum and Dad cleared the lobby quickly, and the small crowd of witches and wizards in various states of disarray spilled out onto the pavement, where the Muggles undoubtedly wondered what was going on.

“Cosplay probably,” I overheard someone mutter to their companion as they passed a witch in a particularly old-fashioned set of green velvet robes and matching hat trimmed in black lace. “Must be some kind of convention.”

“Are you all right?” Scorpius asked me. He had a small cut on his forehead where a piece of debris must have hit him. I reached up to touch it.

“I'm fine. Do you want me to try to heal that?”

“It's fine.” He leaned down to kiss me. “I'm glad you're all right, Rose.”

The hotel's assistant manager was one of the last out, escorted by my father. I pushed my way through the crowd to them, with Scorpius (and Ramses in his pram) at my heels.

“I don't understand,” the assistant manager was babbling. “Someone planted a bomb. In my hotel! Who would do such a thing? It's a miracle no one was killed! We're going to have lawsuits coming out our ears from this.”

“Where was the bomb?” I asked Dad, a sick feeling swooping down on me. I was sure I knew the answer already.

“Fifth floor,” he answered grimly.

Mum's face was pale as she stood beside Dad, her hand on his arm. Scorpius's eyes were wide as he stared at Dad.

Our rooms were on the fifth floor.  
 


	14. Kips Bay

Mum shuffled everyone to a nearby hotel, this time a Muggle one, and checked us in. I was not surprised to find she had American Muggle money on her. Mum was always prepared. She'd had her handbag with her, so all her and Dad's things were safe. I didn't want to think about whether or not anything of mine was salvageable. I had really liked that cocktail dress.

Mum had got one room, with two large beds. She cast a few surreptitious security spells on the room, conjured a cot for Ramses, who was sound asleep already, and then dispatched Dad to get the nappies. Always efficient, my mum, even when our hotel room had been blown up.

When Dad returned with the nappies, Mum cast a charm around the cot so we could speak in normal voices.

“Well,” she began, and then faltered. She cleared her throat. “I'm glad you're all safe.”

“If that bomb had gone off any later, we wouldn't be,” Dad said grimly. “It was a near thing. I had a quick look round with the assistant manager. Most of the damage was to our section of the corridor.”

“Someone bombed us deliberately,” Scorpius muttered.

“Not _someone_. Ambrosia,” I told him.

“You're getting a bit obsessed with her,” Scorpius pointed out.

“Rose is right, it was probably Ambrosia. You two haven't been antagonizing any other criminals this week.” Mum looked at me askance then. “Although you're not wrong, Scorpius...”

“Do you think we're safe here?” Scorpius asked worriedly.

Dad nodded. “For the night, probably. We need to deal with this situation swiftly.”

“What do you propose?” Mum asked. She had clearly forgotten about not speaking to him.

But Dad didn't answer at first. “It's late,” he said eventually. “Let's talk about it tomorrow. There's nothing much more we can do tonight, and we could all do with the sleep. In the morning we'll go to the Aurors.”

I reckoned either he wanted to chew on the problem overnight for the best plan of attack, in which case I was a little scared, or he wasn't sure what to do at all, in which case I was very scared.

I lay awake for a long time, curled up into the crook of Scorpius's arm, listening to the quiet breathing in the room (and Dad's snoring). I did feel safer having everyone together in one room. And it was definitely comforting having Dad around. As much as I loved Scorpius, he wasn't a fighter, and I wasn't sure how well he'd do defending against an attack. He painted and sang, he didn't duel. He'd go down fighting as best he could to save Ramses, I knew that, but the problem was he would still go down. Dad, on the other hand, was the right-hand man of the Head Auror (admittedly, this was his best friend and brother-in-law, but it wasn't nepotism that had gotten Dad the job). He had been capturing bad guys since before I was born. Dad would be a lot harder to take out than Scorpius. The same could be said for Mum. I felt much safer with them here, knowing one or both of them would be with my son.

Rolling over, I tried to look into Ramses's cot, but he had pulled the blanket over his head as usual. I slid out of bed and padded over to check on him, tugging the blanket down until I could see his face. He was breathing steadily, not a care in the world. His little face was relaxed with sleep, and his red hair stood on end. I smiled at him.

“Rose? Is everything all right?”

I looked over to see Mum propped up on one elbow, watching me. “I was just checking on Ramses, that's all.”

She gave me a fond look, her eyes still heavy with sleep. “Everyone's safe, dear. Go on to sleep.”

This time when I laid down, I was able to snuggle into Scorpius and let his deep, even breathing lull me to sleep.

*

Dad went downstairs to scout out the hotel's dining room first thing in the morning. He wouldn't let anyone down there until he'd decided it was safe, and even though I was starving and Ramses was already getting fussy, we waited until he returned.

“All clear,” he said, poking his head in the room. “Come on down, there's bacon.”

The bacon was a little leathery, but we ate it anyway. Ramses was happy with toast soldiers and jam, and that kept him occupied while the rest of us talked.

“What should we do first?” Mum asked. “Go to the Aurors?”

“First thing, we go back to the hotel and see if there's any new information about the bombing, and sort through anything we can salvage from the rooms,” Dad said, buttering a piece of toast. “After that, we go see that Hatchcock bloke and see if he's got anywhere with his investigations. I doubt it, it hasn't been long enough, but I'll see about conjuring a fire under his arse. Get him motivated. Putting the fear of God in someone never did a rookie any harm.”

“We might as well check out of here,” I put in. “If we're going to stay in another hotel, it'd do well to keep moving around. Lessens the danger.”

“Especially if we choose Muggle hotels at random. They'd have to be following us to catch us. Are they following us, do you think?” Mum glanced at Ramses, her face worried.

“Nah, or they'd have killed us by now.” Dad, on the other hand, didn't look at all worried. “Isn't that right? Yes it is. We'd be dead already, yes we would.” He tickled Ramses under the chin.

“Ron,” Mum chided him. “That is so inappropriate.”

“He doesn't understand a word I'm saying.” Dad smiled fondly at the baby, and then told her, “Hurry up and finish your coffee so we can get moving, would you?”

Since Mum had finished eating before the rest of us, I thought this was rather rich coming from him. She gave him a look, but he only grinned. Dad seemed quite chipper considering we could have been killed last night. Either he was enjoying the excitement, or dementia was setting in.

The hotel looked awful since the bombing, of course. The spells that kept it hidden from Muggles were flickering, so it looked like it was flashing in and out. Probably gave everyone who looked at it a splitting headache. There were a pair of wizards out front trying to repair the charms, and another attempting to fix the large hole in the facade of the building. I could see a bit of a room from the street. It didn't seem to be the room I'd been staying in. Probably next door to us, the empty room. That would've been my choice to set a bomb in if I'd been the one trying to kill us.

Inside the lobby, hotel workers were clearing rubble and cleaning the floor, making the hotel presentable again. The manager stood in the middle of the room, looking harassed and ordering people around.

“Oh, thank God you're all right!” he exclaimed when we told him our room numbers. “Lucky you weren't in your rooms, you would've all been killed. I would like to personally express our apologies that this event has happened and we hope it doesn't affect your future travel plans to stay in our lovely hotel.”

“Cheers,” said Dad. “Any word on how the bomb got there or who set it?”

“Nothing yet,” the manager said with a shake of his head. “There were a few coppers here earlier. They said they'd let us know as soon as they found anything.”

MLEs always said that. Maybe American ones actually did it, too.

“We'll be sending a letter to all the guests currently in residence as soon as possible when we have more information,” he added.

“Don't have time for that. We'll just go to the source.” Dad clapped the man on the shoulder. “We'd like to have a look round our room, see if there's anything salvageable.”

“It's not safe up there,” the manager began, but Dad was already walking off toward the stairs.

We followed him upstairs, and Mum checked around a bit before she would let Scorpius and Ramses out of the stairwell. Dad was already poking through the debris in our room, crouched down to sort through the mess on the floor.

“Here's half a pink t-shirt,” he said, tossing the scrap of burnt fabric aside. “This wasn't just a bomb. This was a bomb that uses magic. Look over at the walls, see the swirl pattern in the soot? That's spell damage. She must've got something off that arms dealer after all.”

“No wonder she wants more of it,” I said, looking round at the damage. “This is a pretty good deterrent to any of her enemies. I wouldn't want one of these in my house.”

“Lucky we weren't here,” Mum said darkly. “We'd have all been killed. We need to go to the Aurors. This isn't good. She has a dangerous weapon on her hands with a magical bomb like this, and she's clearly determined to get Rose. We can't just roam around with Ramses in tow. It's too dangerous.”

Dad rose and dusted off his hands. To his credit, he didn't mention that he'd been right all along about Ambrosia not backing off. Normally neither one of my parents missed an opportunity to say ' _I told you so_ ', so that really showed how serious things were getting. “We're going to need somewhere to hide Ramses and Scorpius until this is over. Another hotel?”

Mum didn't look like she liked that idea. I didn't really either.

“I don't think it's a good idea after all. Hotels just aren't secure enough, even if we change location every night,” Mum pointed out before I could say the same thing. “There's nothing to stop her coming after us again if we're in a public place. A hotel is a public place.”

I nodded my agreement. We needed somewhere more hidden, more private, where we had more freedom to cast protective spells. Hotels weren't going to do. I had a sudden brain wave. “I know the perfect place.”

The Rabbit's Tutu was still hopping, but there were people flowing out into the street. It looked as if the brunch show had just let out. Mum and Dad stayed at the front entrance with Scorpius and Ramses, and I ducked inside to look for Mimi. As expected, she wasn't hard to find.

She was wearing an evening dress made from satin and fishnet in a glaring shade of pink, matching stilettos, and her hair was even more enormous and curly than I remembered it being. Honestly, I don't know how one person could have that much hair.

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed when she saw me. “Girl, are you okay? When I saw you had taken off from the bar and gone by yourself, I almost kicked your ass, but then you went and got arrested-”

“It wasn't my fault,” I told her. “I got out, anyway. Thanks for letting Scorpius know, by the way.”

“Seemed like the least I could do. He seemed really surprised when I introduced myself, but he wasn't surprised you'd been arrested. Worried, but not surprised. He's cute. Good job, baby girl.” She gave me a friendly nudge, and I couldn't help smiling back at her.

“Thanks. Well, things have got a bit worse now, and I need somewhere for him to stay with the baby where they can be hidden and safe.”

“My house,” Mimi said immediately, and I nearly sagged with relief.

“I was hoping you'd say that.”

“Well, come on. I'll just grab my bag and we'll go on home and get them settled.”

“I'll meet you outside.”

The day seemed brighter and a bit more cheerful now. Having a safehouse for my little family made me feel more at ease. The hotel bombing had really scared me. Probably I should have told Mimi about that before she agreed to help, but there was still time to mention it.

“She said she'd help,” I told everyone out front.

“Oh thank goodness,” Mum said.

Scorpius raised an eyebrow. Dad was closely examining the rather colourful crowd leaving the restaurant, and then turned to me. “Who did you say this person was?”

Mimi emerged from the building, a large lipstick-red patent leather bag slung over her shoulder and a matching train case in her other hand. “All right, I'm ready. Let's go.”

Dad stared at her. Mum stared at her. Scorpius grinned.

“Mum, Dad, this is Mimi Boheme. Mimi, these are my parents, Ron and Hermione Weasley.” I gestured vaguely at everyone.

“I see where you get that hair, baby girl. Nice to meet you both. Welcome to New York. Were they here all along?” Mimi added to me out of the side of her mouth.

“No, I had to call Mum when I got arrested, and they took a Portkey here to help. She's a lawyer.”

“Lucky you, you got connections. Wish I had a free lawyer. Well, let's get a move on. I wasn't expecting company, so my place might not be the cleanest,” she warned us as we set off down the street.

“We don't mind,” Scorpius spoke up. “Thanks, Mimi.”

Mum cleared her throat. “We'll, erm, cast a few spells on your house, Ms., erm... Boheme. If that's all right with you.”

“I don't mind. Probably come in handy eventually. Goddamn cops. Wait, didn't you say your daddy is a cop?” Mimi rolled her eyes. “I never actually been booked, just threatened a bunch. That one time with that MLE in the Bronx didn't count. I only assaulted him a little bit. They set me up. It wasn't my fault.”

“I see why you and Rose got to be such fast friends,” said Dad.

*

Mimi's flat was in an area known as the Meatpacking District, which sounded ominous to me, but it looked pretty much like every other area of Manhattan I'd seen so far. The flat was small, and on the first floor, but the entrance was at the back of the building, down an alley and through a narrow staircase. From the street, it couldn't be seen at all. I sort of liked that it wasn't an obvious place. Mimi seemed to like her privacy a lot.

Mum and Dad waited outside at the bottom of the steps to cast wards and protective enchantments, and I carried Ramses upstairs behind Mimi while Scorpius toted the pram.

“Sorry about the mess,” Mimi said as we came inside. “I tend to use the floor closet system when I'm by myself.”

I looked around. It was actually very clean, only cluttered. There was a large pile of clothes on the sofa, and a few more on the floor in the hallway. I could see a tiny living area, even tinier kitchen, and a narrow bedroom off the living space. It was smaller than my flat, but rather better decorated. There were interesting pieces of artwork on every wall, interspersed with beautifully shot photographs of Mimi, alone and with various other people.

“It looks fine to me,” I said.

Scorpius had set the pram down right next to the door, and was looking around as well. “I'd be happy to clean a bit, since you're being so kind helping us out like this, especially what with the bombing at the hotel.”

“Oh, don't worry about – did you say bombing?” Mimi's eyes went wide.

“You didn't tell her?” Scorpius asked me.

“I was just about to,” I hedged.

“Girl.” Mimi shook her head. “I want to hear all about this. Your parents are good at protective enchantments?”

“Oh yes, very,” I assured her. “They spent nearly a year on the run from Voldemort when they were teenagers. No one managed to break through Mum's enchantments.”

Except Uncle Harry and his big mouth, but that was beside the point.

“Your family is nuts, I just want you to know that. Now, I'm gonna go pick up a few things,” she said, pointing at her bedroom. “I don't want that baby getting into any jewelry or anything. I'll be right back.”

“Rose, are you sure this is a good idea?” Scorpius whispered as Mimi bustled off.

“It's the safest thing I can think of. Probably the last place anyone will look, and we can put any enchantment we want around the place. Even Mum and Dad agreed.”

“I suppose so. And, erm, Mimi is safe too?”

“She's really great. Very protective.” He didn't look convinced, so I added, “She's probably got better mothering instincts than I do.”

“Right,” said Scorpius slowly, and opened his mouth to say something else, but Mimi had come back in the room again. He gave her a glance and then looked back at me. “Why don't I walk you out, Rose?”

“I'll hold this little fella for you,” Mimi said, hefting Ramses out of my arms. He was staring at her with his little mouth rounded in an O. He seemed fascinated by her. She _was_ very sparkly. Far sparklier than his mother ever was, or any other women he'd seen. It was bound to be a distraction. “Say bye-bye to Mommy! Bye-bye Mommy!” She picked up his little hand and waved it at me. Ramses kept staring at her.

I gave Ramses a kiss, and Scorpius and I walked to the front door. I could see Mum and Dad on the front steps. Mum still had her wand out, but she seemed to have finished whatever protective spells she'd been casting, and she and Dad were talking quietly.

“Be careful, Rose, all right?” Scorpius looked worried.

“I will. You be careful too,” I couldn't resist saying. “You'll be safe with Mimi, though, honestly. There's nothing to worry about.”

“Right, Mimi.” He gave me a look, and said sotto voce, “You do know she's a bloke, right?”

“What?” I said.

*

Hatchcock jumped to his feet when Dad barged into his office. We'd pressed past the department secretary mostly by virtue of Dad's ability to bark orders at people and have them instantly obey. Apparently that worked even when they didn't know who he was.

"Sir, I didn't expect you today," he stammered.

"Someone set a bomb in our hotel last night," Dad informed him. "It was probably Leatherby or one of her henchmen. Half magic, half Muggle explosives. Someone's probably got an investigation going on this, so I suggest you get a copy of the file. We'll wait here." And Dad sat down in a chair, crossing one ankle over his knee, looking very authoritative.

Mum looked a bit smug. I think she likes it when he acts like this.

Hatchcock was still on his feet, eyes wide as he stared at Dad. "Uh, sir, I can't show you internal details on an ongoing investigation. It's against regulation. I can look into it for you but-"

"Have you got proof yet to connect Jessup to bribery and corruption?" Dad interrupted him.

"Uh, not yet-"

"And you weren't aware that a magical bomb went off last night right next to our rooms. If we'd been inside, we'd have been killed."

Hatchcock seemed to waver. He looked as if he were under attack himself. I sort of felt sorry for him.

"Mr. Hatchcock," Mum began.

"Agent," he muttered.

"I beg your pardon?"

Mum and Hatchcock eyed each other. He backed down first, which didn't surprise me. When Mum was being imperious like that, most people backed down.

"Nothing, ma'am."

She gave him a disdainful sniff. "Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but you don't seem to be very on top of things. Nor are your methods proving effective, obviously, since you've made no progress at all since my husband conferred with you. I expected better of the Auror Department of one of the largest cities in the world. We are certainly accustomed to a higher standard back in London, where my husband has trained and supervised hundreds of Aurors who are fully equipped to do their jobs properly. I can't understand the lack of progress in this case. It seems in order to get things done satisfactorily and without further endangering our family, we'll have to deal with the matter ourselves."

Dad smiled lazily. Hatchcock was red in the face. He seemed to be speechless. Having been on the receiving end of one of Mum's chewing-outs myself, I couldn't blame him. If you weren't expecting her, it was probably even worse.

"Come along, Ron," Mum said imperiously, and swept out the door.

Dad rose, stretched his arms a bit, and told Hatchcock proudly, nodding his head toward the door, “M'wife, Hermione."

"Sir, I'm very sorry," he said earnestly. "I'll find out about the bombing. But I can't act outside the law. I need evidence to get a warrant before I can do anything about any dirty cops, or about Anastasia Leatherby."

"Then get some," said Dad.

He walked off then, and I scurried after him. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Hatchcock collapse into his chair, one hand covering his eyes. My parents were pretty overwhelming, I'd give him that.

Mum was already down in the lobby, tapping her foot, and we went outside in silence. Once we reached the pavement, Dad grabbed Mum's arm, twirled her into his arms, and kissed her soundly. I rolled my eyes.

When he let her go again, Mum was pink-cheeked and flustered.

"Oh, Ron," she sighed.

"You're bloody amazing, you are," he told her, grinning wildly.

“Can we focus, please?” I asked, trying not to roll my eyes again. “If Hatchcock's got nothing for us and can't help without a warrant, can we go look around Kips Bay ourselves?”

“That's the plan,” said Dad.

Searching Kips Bay turned out to be easier said than done. Mum pulled a map of the city from her handbag, along with a Muggle guidebook to Manhattan (when she'd picked that up, I had no idea). It turned out Kips Bay wasn't an actual bay, but a neighbourhood. Its exact boundaries were a little unclear, but it was at least eleven blocks north to south and four blocks east to west, right beside the river. That wasn't a large neighbourhood, but it wasn't a small area to search, either, especially in a city like New York. And there were only three of us to do it.

Mum, of course, had a plan for this.

“I think we should go about this methodically,” she said, pointing at the map. “Start at this corner and work our way east, then go north here and back west up the next street, in a grid. It will cover all the ground that way.”

“Nah.” Dad poked at a spot along the river. “She had a meeting spot at the river with that arms dealer. The kidnapped little girl was held by the water too. Let's start over here at the waterfront and then hit any other likely-looking spots.”

“We could miss something doing it that way.” Mum pulled the map away from him. “We'll start at the corner and cover all the space.”

Dad gave her an impatient glance. It was amazing how quickly they could go from kissing to being irritated with each other. “Hermione, she _bombed us_ last night. We don't have time to search forty-four square blocks and hope we turn something up.”

I decided it was time to intervene. They both had a point, but they were also both wrong. “We really don't have time for it, Mum. If we had the full strength of the Ministry's law enforcement, we could do it, but it's just us three. And she may have had a waterfront location for the meet-up, but we don't know if she chose the spot by the marina for Gee Spiker. Every other time I've dealt with Ambrosia, she's been land-locked.”

“Then what do you propose?” Mum snapped. Now she was irritated with me, great.

“Normally when I need to find information about a skip, I go to the seediest local pubs I can find.”

*

It didn't take long to find a seedy pub. New York seemed to have an endless supply of them. Not all of them were wizarding pubs, so that did narrow it down a bit. Still, we had to go to four of them before we started hearing anything.

Well, really we had to go to three of them to realize Mum and Dad ought to stay outside and let me get on with questioning the locals. After the first three pubs, I realized they were holding me back and told them to stay outside.

“But why?” Mum asked. She seemed genuinely surprised, which made me feel a little like the way I imagine she always feels with me: exasperated and fond all at once.

“Because you look like a lawyer, and Dad looks like a cop. Nobody's going to talk to you in these places.”

“And I suppose you think you look like a fellow criminal?”

“She doesn't look like she carries a badge, she means,” Dad said. “And she's right. Let it go, Hermione.”

Mum looked disgruntled. “All right, but I didn't realize so much of Rose's job involved bar-hopping.”

The fourth pub didn't seem as hostile when I went in, probably because my parents were standing outside on the pavement where no one could see them. I ordered a drink and struck up a conversation with a witch in fluorescent yellow robes sitting at the bar.

She stuck a hand out to me. “Charlene Austin.”

“Rose Weasley.”

She perked right up at that. “Are you related to Dominique Weasley?”

Bloody Dominique. Her book was a best-seller in America, apparently, and Charlene raved about it. I pretended to know what she was talking about so she couldn't tell that I hadn't read the damn thing. We talked about Dommie for a while, and as the conversation began to wander, it turned out we had more in common than my cousin. Charlene was also a big fan of Mimi's. Meeting Mimi had come in handy in a lot of ways, it turned out.

“You're friends with her? No kidding?” She seemed impressed by my array of semi-famous friends. “Isn't she just the most amazing thing ever?”

“She's something, all right. She's helped me out of a few tough spots.” This was actually true, although it made it sound like the tough spots had been over the course of years rather than packed into about a three-day span. Semantics.

“I'd love to meet her. I haven't been able to go to the Rabbit's Tutu in a while now. My restraining order says I have to stay at least fifty yards away from the building,” Charlene said regretfully.

I kept a straight face. “Shame.”

“It really is.”

We talked for another ten minutes before I managed to bring the topic around to the Kips Bay area crime scene. Mostly she seemed to know the generic sort of information that everyone knew of their neighbourhood – how often people were mugged, the last time there'd been a murder, how often the Muggles shot each other, things like that. I was hoping she could give me something more specific, or a mention of Ambrosia, so I gave her a gentle nudge.

“So who runs this place? I heard all of New York is run by crime bosses like Charles Rocke.”

“Oh, the Rock's been locked up in Montain for a while now,” she said, brushing him aside with a wave of her hand. “He's out of it. Most of his guns work for Leatherby now, but a few of them are off on their own. Not in this area, though. Kips Bay is pretty firmly for Leatherby. I mean, Wyn Ellery owns property here and everything, and everyone knows he and Leatherby are tight now that the Rock's gone.”

“I heard they worked together,” I agreed. “And this Leatherby, she's pretty tough, I hear.”

"Oh yeah. Nobody wants to cross her, especially now after what happened to Kid Shaw."

I felt a chill down my spine. In all the excitement, I'd almost forgot about Kid Shaw. "What happened to him?"

"I heard about it this morning. Apparently he screwed the pooch on some job or other, and her thugs caught up with him. I heard she flayed all the skin off his arm with a vegetable peeler."

I felt like throwing up at the thought of that. "Did she kill him?"

"Dunno. She may not have had to after she skinned him alive. Partly skinned, anyway."

Oh, holy Kneazles. I felt a little sick. This was a new level of crazy for Ambrosia. Whether she'd done it with magic or an actual vegetable peeler, it didn't matter. I sort of thought it was worse than her usual shovel trick. Flaying men alive. I really did feel sick now. “I think I drank that last one too fast, I'm just going to go grab a bit of air.”

“Sure.” She didn't seem to notice my distress, probably because she was still drinking.

I went outside and leaned against the brick facade of the building. Mum and Dad emerged from the shadows nearby.

“Rose, what happened?” Mum exclaimed. “You're white as a sheet.”

“Kid Shaw, the thug Ambrosia used to kidnap and keep an eye on Georgia Spiker – she found him after he screwed up with Gee, and... she flayed the skin off his arm.”

Dad swore eloquently. Mum went pale. I breathed deeply through my mouth, and the sick feeling eased a bit. I didn't think I was going to throw up after all, so I stood up straighter and fluffed my hair. “I'm going back in.”

“Oh Rose, take a minute,” Mum said. Her eyes were sympathetic.

“No, I've got a good source started in there, I need to stick with her. I'll be back out shortly.”

Mum looked worried, but I thought I saw pride in Dad's eyes as I turned and went back in the bar.

Half an hour and two more drinks later, my fluorescent new friend spilled a bit more about what she knew of Anastasia Leatherby's enterprises. More specifically, where you could go to purchase things from her.

Assuming she really did know what she was talking about, I had a solid lead on Ambrosia. And I knew exactly where the place was.


	15. Without a Warrant

“This is definitely the right place?” Mum asked skeptically.

“This is where that woman in the bar told me we should go, where you can buy things from Ambrosia's underlings,” I assured her. “Kips Bay is her stomping grounds, but we're sure to find an upper-level henchman in this place. We can get an address, and we won't have to search the entire neighbourhood.”

We were walking up Wall Street, past the bull statue. Dad stopped to grin at it. Mum didn't stop walking. I hesitated a moment, halfway between them, then hurried after my mum.

“That's a bloody big bull. Hermione, did you see?”

“Come on, Ron!”

He jogged a bit to catch us up. “I'm sure I know the name of this place, it sounds familiar.”

“I saw it here, the day I bumped into Ambrosia.” I squinted. “There!”

The well-worn sign was the same as the one in Diagon Alley, the same simple lettering. The familiar smell of tobacco wafted to me as we drew closer.

Dad read the sign and snapped his fingers. “Razey's. I do recognize that name. Isn't there one in Diagon Alley next to that curry place?”

“You shouldn't be eating curry, you know it gives you terrible heartburn,” Mum told him.

“Worth it though.”

We stopped outside the shop, and I nodded my head at my father. “Yeah Dad, it's right next to your take-away. I picked up a skip there right before I left for New York. She was the shop assistant. The owner was very keen on my not calling the MLEs when I took her into custody.”

“I bet. They're probably helping smuggle things in and out of Europe and funnelling it into the US for Ambrosia. Tobacco's an excellent cover, especially magical tobacco. Between the charms on it and the smell, it masks quite a bit. You can ship all kinds of things packed in charmed tobacco and no one will notice it at customs.”

Mum was looking through the window consideringly. “Our objective is really to get her current location, not just her frequent haunts. How are we going to handle this?”

“I'm going to show them my badge and tell them I'll hex them into next week if they don't tell me what I need to know,” Dad informed her.

I was sure Mum would object to that, on any number of grounds: he didn't have jurisdiction in the United States, attacking them would be illegal, threatening people to get your way is morally wrong, something like that. Mum's usually full of that kind of thing. But instead she just said, “All right. Let's go.”

“You brought your badge?” I asked Dad, eyeing Mum sidelong in surprise.

He pulled it from the pocket of his jacket and flashed it at me. “Never leave home without it.”

Dad led the way inside, and Mum and I trailed behind him through the narrow aisles. The smell of tobacco was almost overpowering now. This branch of Razey's was larger than the one in Diagon Alley, but seemed much the same. Hundreds of boxes of tobacco of every magical variety were stacked on shelves all the way to the ceiling. Dad was headed straight for the back, where a small counter stood in front of a curtained doorway. As we approached, a man in a rather ugly waistcoat emerged from behind the curtain and gave us the cursory sort of smile shopkeepers often affect when they want to make a sale but don't actually want to deal with customers.

“Can I help you with something?” he asked.

“You sure can,” Dad said, and drew both his wand and his badge. “You can give us a current location on the woman known as Anastasia Leatherby.”

The shopkeeper's eyes went huge, and he tried to scramble backward through the curtain, but I darted sideways and aimed my wand at him.

“Don't even try it.”

“She'll kill me,” he squawked.

“She won't be able to if I get to her, but if you don't help me, I'll make sure you spend the next ten years thinking you're a small rodent of some kind,” Dad told him.

“Rabbits are nice,” I put in. “Tasty, too.”

“Mice are more economical,” Mum said.

“My wife and daughter,” Dad told the shopkeeper proudly. “I suggest you start talking now, cause my wife may look like the nice one, but I assure you, she's not. You'd rather deal with me. I make it a point never to deal with my wife.”

Mum stared the shopkeeper down, arms crossed over her chest. He stared at us wide-eyed, and then reached blindly for a scrap of paper on the countertop.

*

It wasn't difficult to find the address we'd gotten at Razey's. Mum was as well-researched as ever, this time on Manhattan geography. She seemed to know where everything was. She'd probably spent all of her free time with Scorpius memorizing the city maps in her guidebook. It was handy, though a little disturbing. The building was short and squat, sitting on the edge of the block with an alley round one side and a larger building on the other. I counted windows up; seven stories, which for New York City was quite small. It had an industrial sort of look, like an old warehouse. The river was right across the street, a ferry boat parked at the dock. I didn't see an entrance on the front, only papered-over windows. From the way the people on the street were passing it without a second glance, I thought it might have some spells on it to keep the Muggles from seeing it.

Mum had Disillusioned us right before we'd Apparated here, so we made our way carefully toward the building, avoiding bumping into any pedestrian traffic. We ducked into the alley alongside the building.

“What's the plan?” Mum asked.

“We'll go round the building and check out the lay of the land, then we'll burst in, fight our way through any henchmen, and take Ambrosia into custody,” said Dad. “It'll be fun.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. That sounded like the sort of plan I came up with, but it rarely worked out.

“I think we should go and get the local Aurors and tell them what we've found,” Mum told him, avoiding making a comment about his plan. “We could use the back-up.”

“We ought to make sure she's actually in there first,” I pointed out. “Otherwise they'll have come for nothing. How are we going to determine she's in there without tipping her off that we're here?”

“Good question,” Mum said.

Dad gave her a mild-mannered smile. “Only way to be a hundred percent sure is by going in. Why don't you go on and fetch the Aurors, Hermione? We'll wait here.”

Mum gave him a suspicious look. “You'd better not go in there without me.”

“I won't.” He leaned forward and kissed her swiftly. “Be quick about it, though.”

Mum turned over her shoulder and disappeared with a loud crack. Dad and I hung back for a few minutes, leaning against the brick building in a crevice in the architecture. It was just a shallow indentation, not really any sort of cover, but Mum's Disillusionment Charms were pretty strong. We seemed to fade into the bricks.

“Think anyone heard that?” I whispered.

“We'll find out soon enough.”

A moment later, I heard voices and heavy footsteps, and turned my head carefully. A pair of large, burly men in dark clothes were coming down the alley with wands drawn. Two more were waiting at the corner of the alley where it turned around to the back of the building. I held my breath.

They walked right past us, and checked the street briefly before returning to their fellows. The four of them walked off then, disappearing around the corner.

Dad let out a slow breath. “Looks like they did hear. That's some tight security. She's got to be in there.”

“That's not good.”

“It'll be even less good when the Aurors refuse to come with your mother.” Dad pulled a sweet out of his pocket and unwrapped it.

My stomach turned over. “You think they won't come?”

He popped the sweet in his mouth and tucked the wrapper back into his pocket. “You heard Hatchcock. There's no proof. No warrant. At best, she'll bring Hatchcock back with her. He's bound to want to come, even if unofficially.”

“Then why did you let her go? What's the point?”

“Keeps her busy. And Apparating so close to the building was sure to make someone come out and check up on things, so now we've had a look at their security.”

Dad was diabolical sometimes.

I hadn't thought he actually meant to wait for Mum, but he did exactly that, eating sweets from out of his pockets while he waited. He was going to have to re-stock before he saw Ramses again. He seemed very relaxed. I supposed after catching hundreds of bad guys over the years, Dad pretty much took things in his stride. I was feeling more than a little nervous. Ambrosia had gotten the better of me in fights before. But then I'd been up against her one-on-one, and now I had my parents with me.

It took Mum forty minutes to re-appear. Knowing law enforcement as I do, I thought her swiftness was nothing short of miraculous. As Dad had predicted, she was alone but for Agent Hatchcock. Dad gave them a wave to show our location.

Mum seemed briefly surprised to see Dad exactly where she'd left him, but she covered it quickly, hurrying up to us. “We Apparated across the street. I didn't want to get too close to the building that way.”

“Good thinking,” I told her. “When you left, it must've alerted them, because four goons came 'round the corner. Two of them went right past us. Didn't see a thing, though.”

“I'm not surprised, I can hardly see you myself,” Hatchcock said. “Should I be Disillusioned too?”

“Might as well.” Dad nodded to Mum, and she tapped the young Auror hard on the top of his head. The spell spread down him like water, and he seemed to fade into the background. If you knew where to look, and when he moved, you could see him, but when he was still he was imperceptible.

Hatchcock seemed to steel himself, and then he told Dad, “We'll check the place out, and if I see anything suspicious, I can go in. But I can't just break down the door, it's against the law. I'd lose my job, and possibly go to jail.”

“Man up,” Dad told him. “These are what we call _exigent circumstances_.”

“You're going in without a warrant or probable cause?” Hatchcock looked torn. Probably he should make us leave, but he obviously wanted to come along.

“No jurisdiction, either,” said Dad. “I'm not letting her get away again. She's tried to kill my daughter, she bombed my hotel with my grandson inside, and we've got a pretty decent idea that she's in there right now. I'm going in with or without you, so it's your choice.”

“Sir, please-”

“Coming along or not. Which is it?”

Hatchcock stared at Dad for a moment, then he straightened his shoulders and nodded once. “I'm coming.”

Dad motioned to us. “Let's go then.”

Dad pressed ahead with Mum beside him, and I slowed my pace a bit to fall in next to Hatchcock. He was muttering to himself over and over, "What am I doing, what am I doing..."

"Don't blame yourself," I said reassuringly. "It's a Weasley thing. You can't help yourself. We're contagious. Or infectious. Something like that. You should meet my uncle George, he's the worst. And my cousins Fred and James. Don't even get me started on Louis."

"I can call for backup once we're inside," said Hatchcock, more to himself than in response. "I'll say I followed Mr. Weasley in. I wasn't going in without a warrant technically. Not really. I was pursuing a suspect."

I patted his shoulder. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"Are you sure we can't convince him to wait for proper procedure?" Hatchcock asked.

We both looked ahead at Dad. He was flattened up against the wall now at the corner of the building, peering around to the back.

"Probably not," I told Hatchcock.

“Okay. This is going to be a firefight, isn't it?” He looked a little ill.

“Have you ever been in a firefight?” I asked, though I was pretty sure I already knew the answer.

Sure enough, he shook his head. “I work in Internal Affairs in D.C. I was only here to root out the dirty Aurors in the New York branch. I'm not really a field agent, so to speak.”

“Well, don't worry. Mum and Dad are really good at this stuff. They helped defeat Voldemort. Dad's been in hundreds of firefights.”

“And you too, right?”

I smiled at him. “Me? Not really.”

“You haven't been in a lot of firefights?” he asked nervously.

“Just a few, and they weren't my fault. I don't really do this sort of thing,” I admitted.

He gave me a look of stark disbelief. “Are you kidding? This was all your idea in the first place! You're _Ron Weasley's daughter!_ ”

Jeez, you'd think that meant I was an Auror, too. “That doesn't mean I know what I'm doing.”

“I thought you were a bounty hunter,” he hissed.

“Well, yeah. I'm not a very good one. Haven't you seen my wardrobe?”

“I thought you wore pink ironically!”

“I like glitter,” I commented. “And pink is so pretty.”

He closed his eyes as if it were all too much for him. This wasn't an uncommon reaction to my wardrobe choices.

“Less talking, more following,” Dad called softly from ahead of us. “I'm going to go put a Stunner on the guards. Hatchcock, you're with me.”

Hatchcock shook his head. “I can't, not without-”

“A warrant,” Mum finished for him impatiently. “Rose, go help your father.”

Dad and I crept around the side of the building, moving as soundlessly as possible. Dad had his wand in his hand already, and I drew mine. I wasn't as good at Stunners as he was, but it was one of the spells I used in my job often enough that I knew I could do it. I was all right with ambushes and defensive spells, but like I'd told Hatchcock, full-out firefights weren't something I did. I think I'd only been in one or two. Normally the closest I got was Pyxis Parmenter throwing sticky things at me. Luckily for me, Stunning the guards while Disillusioned was pretty much the definition of an ambush.

The two guards were lurking near the steel door in the rear of the building, with the bored look of hired guns who are neither exceptionally well trained nor exceptionally well paid. They weren't on the alert.

Dad put a hand to my arm, and I could see him nod at the two guards, then nodded again at the one closer to us and pointed at me. I nodded and aimed my wand at the guard. Dad pointed his at the second guard, and whispered, “ _Stupefy!_ ”

I was a second behind him, but my guard didn't even have time to register what had happened to his co-worker before he dropped as well.

Dad whistled, and I could just make out Mum and Hatchcock coming around the corner. As soon as they had joined us, Dad said in a low voice, “We'll go in fast and hard, there's bound to be more of them inside, and there's only four of us. Not a lot on our side but surprise. Hatchcock, no more of this warrant crap. I need you doing your part in there.”

Hatchcock, who was staring at the unconscious guards, swallowed and nodded. I was pretty sure visions of his employment future were dancing before his eyes.

“First things first,” Dad remarked almost casually. He waved his wand at the building, both hands upraised. I recognized the pattern immediately, and from the expressions on the faces of Mum and Hatchcock, they did too. Anti-Apparition wards. Nobody was escaping from that building quite so easily. I hoped they didn't have a Floo connection. Probably they didn't, though. I bet those are trouble in a secret criminal lair.

When the spell was complete, Dad nodded his head at the padlocked steel doors. “Let's go. Hermione, you want to do the honours?”

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Ron?” Mum asked. I reckoned she was having second thoughts about our lack of backup.

“If you want something done right, you've got to do it yourself,” Dad told her, which was probably Mum's secret motto, then looked over at Hatchcock. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Hatchcock said, a bit shakily. I was starting to worry he wasn't going to be much use in there after all. Surely Internal Affairs agents had to go through the same Auror training as field agents?

Mum stepped forward and waved her wand at the door. It exploded off its hinges in a spectacular crash of falling masonry, and we all rushed in, Hatchcock muttering under his breath again.

The doors opened onto a short hallway with another door at the end. Dad cast a spell at the door without slowing down his pace and it popped open. Beyond the second door was simply a large empty room with very high ceilings, crates stacked along one wall floor to ceiling. Standing in the centre of the room was a large cluster of people, mostly goons. Ambrosia was in the middle with the arms dealer, Stanis. Right next to them was Wyn Ellery.

A brief look of surprise flashed across Ambrosia's face, but Dad shot a Stunner at her and suddenly everything seemed to explode into chaos.

Ambrosia darted sideways, behind one of her goons who was built like a brick wall, and Dad's Stunner hit the goon. He fell heavily, but missed taking anyone else out as he went down. Wyn Ellery let out a loud squawk of fear and tried to Disapparate. His eyes went wide with horror as he realized he couldn't get out that way.

I ignored Wyn and shot a Stunner at Ambrosia, but she was already moving again, ducking and weaving behind her goons and a few hastily conjured Shield Charms that Mum blew away as quickly as Ambrosia could summon them. Her goons were fighting back now too, and in the blink of an eye it turned into a melee.

The air was crackling with spells. I did my best to keep up with my parents, since they were much better fighters than I was, but it was tough staying near them. They were used to working as a team together, not with me. I wound up fighting back-to-back with Hatchcock instead. He seemed better now that the possibility of a warrant was off his mind, though he wasn't as quick on the draw as Dad was.

From close-up, I recognized a few of the henchmen from the pier, the ones who'd got away without being killed. I recognized another face, too, at the same moment that Hatchcock apparently did.

“Bleach,” he growled under his breath.

The other Auror had seen him, and tried to skulk away from the battle, but Hatchcock chased him down and I was left to defend myself alone again.

I couldn't see Ambrosia. Someone bumped into me, nearly knocking me down, and I wobbled as I shoved past her goons, looking for that flash of blonde hair. A blast of yellow sparks blew past me and spun one of the bodyguards around, and I looked around to see Dad duelling with Stanis the arms dealer. It looked like an equal match, and a thrill of fear went through me. Stanis was younger, his reflexes were probably quicker – I was suddenly terrified for my father. I turned and started pushing my way through, trying to reach them before it was too late.

But before I could get there, it already was too late. Dad ducked under a jet of green light and, on one knee, got Stanis straight to the torso with a perfect Stunner.

It was spectacular. The pressure in my chest loosened, but I had to duck then myself as a spell from one of Stanis's guards narrowly missed hitting me. Suddenly Mum was right there next to me.

“Rose, be careful!” She aimed a volley of curses at the goons, and two of them dropped like stones, and then she turned to throw up a Shield Charm behind us, blocking another goon's curses.

I was about to thank her when I saw Ambrosia across the room, walking purposefully toward a door on the far side of the room without regard for the fight behind her. I shoved past one of her henchmen and started running.

Before I got there, Wyn Ellery stepped out from behind a box with his wand drawn. I couldn't hear what they said to each other, but Ambrosia was faster than the congressman. She got him with a Stunner straight to the chest at point-blank range, and he dropped to the ground, unconscious or worse.

“Stop!” I yelled as she put a hand to the door, and Ambrosia turned. Her wand was still in her hand, and now it was aimed at me.

“Stay back,” she told me. Her voice was calm but her eyes were a bit wild. “Or I'll blast a hole through you.”

She twisted the door handle and whirled around to run off, but drew up short.

Anita Spiker was standing on the other side of the door, her wand drawn and aimed straight at Ambrosia.

* * *

_A/N: Hands up if you read "I make it a point never to deal with my wife" in Drum Eatenton's voice. ;) Steel Magnolias for the win._


	16. Notoriety

 They simply stood there for a moment in silence, facing off in the open doorway. Ambrosia had drawn her wand so quickly I almost hadn't realized she'd moved until I saw the wand aimed at Anita's chest, but she was trapped with me on one side of her and Anita on the other.

Anita's face was filled with that same insane rage that I'd seen when I'd brought her daughter back to her. Ambrosia seemed to recognize this, because her body tensed.

“You kidnapped my baby,” Anita said evenly.

“You wouldn't cooperate,” Ambrosia retorted.

“You had some thug keep her in a dirty room for days.”

“I skinned him alive for letting her get away, if that makes you feel any better,” Ambrosia told her.

They stared at each other over drawn wands, and after a moment Anita said, “A little.”

I was almost afraid to breathe, in case they remembered I was there and one of them tried to kill me. It seemed best for now to let them get on with their argument. I wasn't sure Anita really could take Ambrosia in a fight. If she could, she would've gone after her before Ambrosia got a chance to kidnap her daughter.

But then Anita's gaze flicked into the other room and she saw Stanis the arms dealer. A muscle twitched at her temple, and she gripped her wand more tightly, stepping closer to Ambrosia. “I didn't want to work with him. He's insane. Do you know what he does to the women he works with?”

“Runs off at the first hint of trouble,” Ambrosia said sourly.

“I just wanted to make a decent living in the States, to take care of my daughter. And you _forced me_ to work with that monster.” Anita's eyes were wild.

Ambrosia's jaw clenched and she shot back, “You tried to hex me when I asked nicely.”

I could only imagine what Ambrosia's idea of asking nicely was. She'd once kidnapped me, dropped me in a rubbish dump, and Incarcerated me to get me to stop bothering her, and I had a feeling she thought that had been asking nicely.

Anita made a sudden slashing movement with her wand, and Ambrosia was a second too slow to prevent being Disarmed. Her wand went flying and Anita stepped forward, pressing her wand into Ambrosia's chest. There was a faint sizzle, and a weirdly unpleasant smell as red sparks fell from the tip of the wand, burning into Ambrosia's flesh. It must have hurt like hell, but she didn't so much as twitch. Luckily Anita was twitchy enough for both of them. The muscle in her temple was still going, and her eyes were deadly cold now, flat like a doll's.

She was really going to kill her, I realized. I didn't want Ambrosia dead. I wanted her safely behind bars, preferably behind a dragon first and then some bars. I didn't like seeing people killed in front of me, even people who'd tried to kill me. There was only one thing to do. I aimed my wand at Anita. “ _Stupefy!_ ”

She fell with a look of surprise on her face. I reckoned she hadn't been expecting me to turn on her.

Ambrosia went to pick up her wand, but I had mine trained on her now, and she held up both hands in surrender as I stepped closer.

“Don't do anything you'll regret, Rose.”

“I'm not going to kill you,” I told her. “Anita would've done that for me if I wanted you dead.”

She looked irritated, as if an insect were bothering her. “Do you expect me to thank you?”

Nice. Technically I had saved her life, even if it was to spend it in jail. “I expect you to come into custody and let the Aurors take you in.”

“I think not,” Ambrosia said, and before I could react, she shoved me hard with her upraised hands.

I landed hard, knocking the wind out of me, and automatically tried to brace my fall. A searing pain shot up my arm as my right hand took the worst of my weight. My wand clattered away, and Ambrosia lunged for it. She scooped it up and took off running, and I scrambled to my feet to follow her.

She was heading straight for the front door, through the fight that was still going on between my parents and her henchmen. Hatchcock was on the fringe of the melee, duelling with his fellow Auror. I bent to pick up a fallen wand from beside the unconscious body of one of the less-talented-at-duelling bad guys and caught snatches of Bleach's snarled insults as he and Hatchcock threw hex after hex at each other.

“Friggin' rat squad! You shoulda stayed behind your desk, Hitchcock!”

I didn't have time to stop and help him, because Ambrosia was getting away. Mum seemed to appear out of nowhere beside me.

“She's getting away,” I yelled before she could say anything, and grabbed her arm with my uninjured hand. We took off after Ambrosia together.

She was nearly to the end of the long corridor that had led us into the building when Mum and I barrelled through the broken door.

“Stop!” Mum called, throwing a curse I didn't recognize at the steel doors. They flared blue, as if they were coated in flames. Ambrosia wasn't able to stop in time and slammed into them with her shoulder, then stumbled back with a cry.

“You don't have the authority to detain me here, Mrs. Weasley,” Ambrosia managed to say.

“I think we're well past authority,” Mum told her, and then waved her wand to Disarm her. My wand went flying out of her hand, and I stepped closer to pick it up. Ambrosia's eyes followed me, her face filled with frustration and rage. She appeared to have realized that the jig was up.

“I should have killed you a long time ago,” she snarled. “You ruined months of my hard work in London, and now you've come over here and screwed things up for me in New York.”

“I didn't mean to,” I said without thinking.

“Why couldn't you just stay the hell away from me?”

“ _Incarcerous_ ,” Mum said quietly. Thick ropes shot out of her wand to wrap around Ambrosia.

Ambrosia looked as if she wanted to spit fire. “Charles Rocke was gone. That old bastard from Queens was gone. There was no one left in my way. Dammit, dammit, dammit.” She kicked the wall in a fit of fury.

I tried to feel some sympathy that I'd wrecked her rise to the top of the underworld, but somehow I couldn't manage it. My rear end still hurt from where I'd landed on the concrete floor, and I was pretty sure I'd fractured my wrist, too. It was throbbing much worse now that I had time to breathe.

I tucked the extra wand I'd collected into my pocket, and looked at my mother. “Have you got her? I'll go help Dad.”

Mum's eyes didn't leave Ambrosia., her face still and hard. Nobody messed with my mum when she looked like that, not even my dad. “Oh, she's not going anywhere.”

I jogged back into the main room, trying to hold my wand left-handed and hoping I'd be able to cast a decent spell with it, but it turned out I didn't really need to. Dad was just finishing off the last of the henchmen with another textbook-perfect Stunner. Honestly, it was like he'd trained people to cast that spell for the last thirty years.

Ha.

I changed direction and headed for Hatchcock, who'd got Bleach down on the ground and was fighting Muggle style. Bleach was obviously past the point of fighting back, but Hatchcock was still hitting him. I put a hand on Hatchcock's shoulder, and he gave Bleach one last punch to the nose and then stumbled to his feet. Bleach laid there groaning and didn't move. There was blood everywhere. Hatchcock was sporting a fat lip, a cut above his eye still flowing freely.

He spit out a broken tooth and looked down at Bleach with contempt. “It's _Hatchcock_ , you ass.”

*

Mum dragged Ambrosia, still bound tightly and now immobilized as well (Mum favoured overkill in times like these), into the room with her defeated crew. While Dad gathered the remaining defeated henchmen, Mum fixed my broken wrist, though she fussed a bit about it, wishing my brother was there to do it properly, seeing as he was a fully qualified Healer. Still, she got the job done. Hatchcock returned to Auror headquarters and brought reinforcements back with him. It only took them fifteen minutes. Apparently the sight of him had been enough to dispense with worries about warrants.

Somehow in the commotion, Stanis had disappeared. I hadn't kept count of the number of henchmen about the place, but I thought we were missing one. He must have revived his boss and helped him escape while the rest of us were busy. Dad wasn't pleased about that, and gave the Aurors a chewing-out over their lack of willingness to provide backup. To their credit, they didn't bother pointing out the warrant thing again.

Jessup had arrived with the rest of the lot, and didn't look any happier to see me now than he had done the time he'd arrested me. You'd think he'd realize I wasn't a bad guy. Apparently I was bothering Aurors as well as criminal masterminds. I couldn't decide whether or not I was relieved that he wasn't a dirty cop, only a big fat jerk.

“Hell of a mess,” Jessup said to Hatchcock, ignoring me completely.

“Yes, sir,” Hatchcock said, mopping at the blood on his face with his sleeve. No one had patched him up yet, and the cut on his forehead was still oozing.

“At least we didn't knock the building down,” Dad put in _sotto voce_. He was grinning, one arm wrapped around Mum's waist. She had her head on his shoulder, still watching Ambrosia, who was now surrounded by Aurors. Both of them appeared to be in excellent spirits.

I decided not to comment on that. I hadn't destroyed a building the entire time I'd been in New York. It was probably a record for me. The holes in the wall at Kid Shaw's place didn't count: it had still been standing when I'd left.

Jessup eyed him for a moment, and apparently decided it wasn't worth his comment, either. “Please escort the Weasleys back to their hotel, Hatchcock. And get yourself fixed up in the infirmary, too.”

“You're welcome,” Dad said pointedly. “My wife and I don't accept awards for doing what's right, but we wouldn't say no to a free dinner.”

“Ronald.” Mum elbowed him in the ribs. “He's only joking. We've accepted any number of awards.”

I grinned at them. Hatchcock let out a chuckle. Jessup was not amused.

Mum and Dad headed outside with Hatchcock, still looking rather smug, but I paused as we passed the main prisoner of the day.

Ambrosia was seated on the floor, still wrapped up in Mum's Incarceration Curse. She looked very sullen. With five Aurors around her and no wand, she seemed to have decided not to fight her way out. They did have jurisdiction and probably weren't afraid to use it.

“Don't get too close,” one of the Aurors warned me, rather unnecessarily. I had no intention of getting within headbutting distance of Ambrosia.

I crouched down in front of her, a few feet away.

“What _is_ your real name, anyway?” I asked. She gave me a mulish glare, and I went on, “It's going to come out whether you like it or not. You might as well just say.”

She put her head back and stared at the ceiling for a while, and I was sure she wasn't going to answer. I stood up and started to walk away when she said loudly, “Susan James. It's Susan James, all right?”

Holy Kneazles. That hadn't been what I'd been expecting. I could see why she always made up such exotic names.

“Um,” I said intelligently. “That's very, uh, average.”

“Oh, shut up, Rose,” she snapped.

*

The Ellery brownstone loomed large over us as I climbed the front steps with my parents. The reporter bloke, the one who'd warned me off when I'd come to interview the judge, tried to intercept us. Mum and Dad have far more experience with the press than I do, so after they'd cleared him off, he simply stood at the corner on the pavement, scribbling into a notebook as fast as he could. I had a feeling we were his next big scoop, even if he had to invent the details.

Giles Ellery answered the door. He seemed to recognize me. “You're that P.I., aren't you?” He glanced my parents. “You were investigating my brother's death, right?”

“Yeah, I was.”

Giles waved us inside, glancing down the street at the reporter. “Come inside. The vultures are still out there.”

“Giles? Who is it?”

I looked up and saw the blonde woman who'd tipped me off to Heckie standing halfway down the stairs. She was gripping the railing tight now that she'd seen us, and her face had gone a bit white.

“Did you find them?” she asked me. Her face held mingled dread and hope.

I nodded. “The Aurors have her now, the woman who killed Noah.”

Mrs. Ellery sagged against the railing, then sat down on the elegant and expensive carpeted stairs. “My God. It's over.”

Giles had tears running down his face. He wiped them away quickly, trying not to let us see.

I had never done this bit before. Dad looked rather at ease, since he'd told any number of families that the monster who killed their loved one was no longer roaming free, but normally I never saw the victims. I only saw the loved ones of the monster. Although really the worst monsters I generally went after were shoplifters and bar brawlers. Still, seeing this part of the legal process was new to me. It was very satisfying, I had to admit.

“It won't be over until after the trial,” came the gruff voice of the judge.

Everyone turned, except Cornelia Ellery, who was still crying quietly on the stairs. Greyson Ellery stood in the doorway to the study where I'd met him. He looked very stoic. I would have thought he was unmoved if I hadn't seen the emotion in his eyes.

And he was right about the trial. He certainly knew better than most about that.

“When she's convicted, then it's over. Come in,” he added, waving us in.

Giles went up the stairs to hug his mother, and Mum and Dad followed me into the judge's study. He sat down in a large upholstered chair by the window, and I perched next to my parents on the sofa. The judge leaned back, examining us closely.

“Your father, I believe you said?” he asked me.

I nodded and made appropriate introductions. “Yes, sir. This is my father, Ron Weasley, and my mother, Hermione Weasley. Dad is an Auror and mum works in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

“Lawyer?” the judge asked mildly.

Mum nodded firmly.

“Thought so. You have the look.”

I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or an insult, but Mum didn't take umbrage at it. Probably she was used to people hating lawyers by now.

“We wanted to ask you, sir, what you said to your brother that evening in his office,” I began. “He was there when we found Ambrosia.”

Greyson Ellery rubbed a hand over his chin. “He did it, then. I told him if he didn't make an attempt at making amends, I'd make sure he never won another election.”

I had a feeling the judge's political clout was pretty hefty. Nobody can shoot a political campaign in the foot like an enemy in your own family. “What did you ask him to do, exactly?”

“I wanted information on that... that _woman_.” The judge's jaw tightened, and his hand clenched on the arm of the chair. “I knew who she was, that she'd had Noah killed to make me throw that trial. I had no proof, no name. I told my brother to bring me something I could take to the Aurors or he could kiss his road to the White House goodbye.”

“You must have known he was endangering himself by doing that,” Dad remarked. There was no censure in his voice. Dad had no sympathy for people who got their family members killed.

Evidently the judge didn't either, because he gave Dad an even look and said, “So be it. He got my son killed through his greed and stupidity, and he didn't even realize who he was getting in bed with.”

“She'll be going away for a long time now,” Mum said gently. She leaned forward and took his hand briefly. “She'll never hurt anyone again. And we are so very sorry for your loss.”

Greyson seemed genuinely touched. He nodded to her. “Thank you, Mrs. Weasley.”

“I doubt we can say the same of your brother, though,” Dad said shrewdly.

“I wouldn't mind seeing him do jail time, but I doubt he'll ever get convicted,” Greyson agreed. “The old bastard is slippery. He's a lot like our grandfather. He was what you might call a robber baron, though if he were alive now he'd just be called a mobster. Wyn would like to be the same, only with politics instead of questionable finances. I'm very glad that my brother didn't get your daughter killed as well as my son.”

“Rose is harder to knock down than she looks,” said my father.

They smiled at each other. I could see Mum repressing an eye roll. I thought it was rather sweet that Dad and the judge seemed to understand each other so well, even if it was through jokes at my expense.

“I take it you'll be returning home soon?” the judge asked.

Dad nodded. “Tonight.”

“It was truly a pleasure. I don't know how our family came to your attention,” Greyson added, looking me in the eye, “but I am very glad that we did. Thank you for catching my son's murderer.”

I nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed. “You're welcome.”


	17. Welcome Home

 Kid Shaw, recovering from his flayed arm, turned on Ambrosia and testified against her in exchange for immunity for his crimes. He was put in WITCHSEC and is probably living somewhere warm and cosy, hopefully safe from both kidnapping small girls and being skinned alive by crime bosses. Stanis the arms dealer escaped, but Dad and Uncle Harry were able to add to the file on him back at the Aurors, matching him up to a large number of other crimes all around the world. They seemed quite confident that they'll catch him eventually. I was just glad that I wouldn't have to do it.

Bleach the crooked Auror was indicted on about a dozen different charges. Judge Ellery presided over his trial, and sentenced him to fifteen years in Montain. He was being kept separate from the other prisoners in a maximum-security area. Apparently dirty cops don't survive well in the general population.

Anita Shaw had come to before the Aurors arrived and managed to disappear. She and her daughter were gone without a trace. I didn't know where they were, but I hoped Anita was staying out of trouble. Somehow it seemed unlikely.

Dad kept in touch with Hatchcock, who had decided he liked being a field agent after all. He had plans to come visit the London Auror office to meet Uncle Harry and see how things operated across the pond. Mum did a lot of rolling her eyes at this, but Dad wasn't deterred. Dad had the latest books in that Auror series sent to Charles Rocke after all, with his compliments. Charles Rocke may never see the outside of his cell, but at least he'd have good reading, and think fondly of the Weasleys (and maybe give up some more of his ex-associates).

I was still in touch with Mimi, of course. I rather thought we were friends for life after that trip to New York. Her career was going swimmingly (she had two more restraining orders against overzealous fans and seemed to see that as a measure of her success), and she planned to come to London on her next holiday. I was greatly looking forward to introducing her to some of my cousins. I was fairly certain she and Victoire would get along like a house on fire.

Wyn Ellery made it out alive, and after spending three days in the hospital for the point-blank Stunner to the chest, he was back to Congress. He did not serve any jail time. Typical. His brother had not forgiven him for his betrayal, it seemed, because the papers reported that the Ellerys were now estranged. But the judge didn't come out with any statements to destroy Wyn's political career, so apparently what he'd done had been just enough for a cease fire but not enough for a peace treaty.

As for Ambrosia, or whatever name she went by, she was still sitting in prison, awaiting her trial. Between Kid Shaw's evidence and the events at the warehouse, her conviction was pretty much a sure thing, and now she'd been caught, more evidence was rolling in all the time. Greyson Ellery had to recuse himself from serving as judge on that trial, as he was a material witness, but he was throwing his political weight around like a Mexican wrestler, so it didn't look likely that Ambrosia would ever leave Montain. She was expected to serve consecutive life sentences, guarded by the dragon. I had a feeling the Ellerys would make sure she never saw the light of day again.

*

“Scorpius, darling!”

Yuvia fluttered over to us, dressed in a yellow and pink caftan, her head crowned with a large yellow turban. There was an enormous jeweled pin on the front of it which blinked at us owlishly. Scorpius exchanged cheek kisses with her and I tried not to stare at the turban.

“The show was smashing, just absolutely marvelous. You're a genius, my dear, a genius – and the extra press at the last minute!” Yuvia's eyes rolled in ecstasy. “Genius! Three more paintings sold since yesterday. I wish I'd thought of it.”

It had been two days since we'd caught Ambrosia. The newspaper yesterday morning had a photo of her splashed across the front page, and halfway down a photo of me on the steps of the Ellery brownstone. The caption had mentioned Scorpius's art show. I reckoned that reporter who'd been camped outside the brownstone had gotten himself on the front page after all. I wasn't terribly concerned by the article, since we were going home today, but Scorpius had been rather annoyed by it. Of course, since I'd gone to fetch him from Mimi's and found him hoovering while a wigless Mimi held the baby (she really was a bloke), he'd seemed annoyed by just about everything.

“And Rose!” Yuvia added, sounding far more eager to talk to me than she had done before. Apparently there really was no such thing as bad publicity. “Darling, I had no idea you were here working. I could have played this up more! Think of the sales we could have made with the extra notoriety! I wish you'd told me!” She waved this away before I could answer. “Next time, next time. Well my darlings, I'm so glad you've come, it's been very profitable all around. I must run, our next show is in two weeks and there's so much to do – I doubt we'll get the kind of press you managed, but we can't have everything. Mario will get you sorted out with the remaining unsold works. Ta!”

We watched her trot off out the door.

“Well,” I said.

“Well,” said Scorpius.

“Mama,” said Ramses.

I passed him over to his father, who jiggled the baby lightly, and gave Scorpius my best trustworthy smile. “See, she wasn't angry at all.”

We'd had a small argument on the way over about Yuvia's anticipated reaction to the article in the paper mentioning the Maiden Launch gallery alongside murder, mayhem, and mobsters. I still stood by the fact that it hadn't been my fault. Mum and Dad had already gone home or they would probably back me up on that. Well, Dad would, anyway. Scorpius didn't care whose fault it was, so long as it didn't wreck his art career.

“Apparently not,” Scorpius said, a bit grudgingly. “Sometimes your career is unexpectedly good for mine.”

“Funny old world. Who the hell is Mario, anyway?”

Once the assistant at the gallery, whose name turned out to be Marshall actually, packed up the rest of Scorpius's paintings for us to bring home, we headed for Radio Row. Our Portkey was due in two hours, and I was only hoping we'd make it on time. Getting out of the country was probably going to be just as annoying as getting in had been.

Scorpius, with Ramses still tucked in one arm, took my hand as we went down the disguised entrance in the park to the International Portkey Interchange. “How did you like New York, Rose?”

“Aside from the people trying to kill me, it was rather good.”

I could tell he was trying not to roll his eyes. “They wouldn't have tried to kill you if you had bloody left them alone,” he pointed out, apparently unable to resist. Honestly, sometimes he sounded just like my mother.

“It wasn't my fault,” I retorted. “I couldn't just leave it alone.”

“You never can.” He shook his head and then smiled. “Only you, Rose.”

I decided not to argue further since his mood had improved (selling paintings often did that for him). He never believed it wasn't my fault anyway, so there wasn't much point.

*

Being back in England felt both strange and good after being in America for a fortnight. The absence of flat American vowels was surprisingly comforting, although at the same time I rather missed the New Yorkers and their accents. There was a note on the door from our landlady, the inimitable and perpetually ill-tempered Mrs. Kochel, saying we'd better stop leaving our dirty wellies in the corridor and threatening the usual eviction, hexing, and calling my mother. I balled this up and threw it in the trash.

“Home again,” Scorpius said expansively, dropping our luggage just inside the door. “It's good to be back. Hang on, how are there dirty dishes in the sink?”

There hadn't been time to wash them before we'd left, honestly. Besides, doing the washing up was his job.

I set Ramses down on the floor and collapsed onto the couch. He scampered off to explore, full of energy. The hours in the Portkey Interchanges hadn't been pleasant with a fussy baby, but now we were home and he'd had a half hour's nap on the tube, he was completely back to normal. I was that frazzled from his crying jags. Now he was giggling at one of his toys as if the meltdown at British customs had never happened.

Scorpius flopped down next to me. “Look at him, like a little angel.”

“The little devil,” I agreed.

“You'd never think he'd been screaming his head off half the day.” Scorpius kicked off his shoes and stretched out his legs on the coffee table. “I'm exhausted. What time is it?”

“It's only gone four o'clock. I wonder if Lydia's in the office,” I mused.

Scorpius let out a groan. “Rose, we just got home. Can't it wait until tomorrow? We haven't even unpacked yet.”

“I'll just pop by for a mo and see if she has anything interesting.” I hauled myself to my feet and grabbed my handbag. I had no intention of unpacking.

“I give up. Go ahead, go, enjoy yourself, you will anyway no matter what I say.” Scorpius shook his head. “We'll just stay here and relax and do the unpacking, won't we, Ramses?”

“Dada,” Ramses said distinctly.

Scorpius did a double take. I'd never seen someone actually do that before.

“Did he just – Ramses, did you just say Dada?” He scrambled to his feet and practically leaped over the coffee table to scoop up the baby, hugging him tightly. “He said it, Rose, did you hear? Ramses, can you say Dada? Dada loves you. Can you say Dada?”

Ramses looked him straight in the eye and said, “Mama.”

*

Lydia was at her desk when I arrived, packing up for the day, a cloud of blue bubbles around her head from the Drooble's she was always chewing since she'd quit smoking. She looked happy to see me, grinning hugely, and gave me a hug.

“Rose, you're back! How was New York? Did you find that Shanahan bloke you were looking for?”

“I did. Long story, I'll tell you later.” I eyed the files on her desk. “Anything good come in while I was gone? Or did you give them all to Dino?”

Lydia laughed. “Dino won't touch the little bounties that you take, you know that. Angelo talked about hiring someone to replace you, but he would never actually do it.”

“Yeah, no one else would put up with his abuse.” I rolled my eyes. “I had a long day at the Portkeys, I could really use something to take my mind off it all.”

“Avoiding the unpacking?”

She knew me so well.

I reached out to pick up the stack of files on the corner of her desk, but Lydia whisked them away.

“Oh, I've the perfect one for you,” she said, shuffling through the folders. “Your favourite sort of pick-up.”

“Shoplifter?” I guessed.

“Even better. Guess who we have to welcome you home?” Lydia asked in a sing-song voice, grinning widely.

I had a bad feeling about this. “Oh no. Not Parmenter.”

“Oh yes,” she said, and handed me a file.

_(the end)_

 

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**A/N: Thank you for reading this story, and to all those who reviewed! I greatly appreciate it and hope you have been entertained. Please let me know what you thought of the story!**


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